


Family Matters

by Cerdic519



Series: Austentatious [3]
Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Derbyshire, England (Country), F/M, London, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, pride & prejudice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:28:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here it (finally) is, the long-promised 'midquel' to bridge the gap between Duty & Devotion and The Road To Pemberley, my first two Jane Austen works. Further apologies to the great writer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The 'Joys' Of Pregnancy

August 1801

It was odd, Castiel thought. Whereas brides were supposed to be virgins until their wedding day, omegas were traditionally mated by their alpha or beta once permission for the match had been granted, a tradition presumably aimed at stopping anyone else from getting in first. It was probably an old wives' tale, but it was said that only if the couple were truly compatible would this mating cause the omega to go into heat. It had certainly worked for both Castiel and his brother; the omega smiled as he remembered the jealous looks on Raphael's and Balthazar's faces when first one and then the other of their elder brothers returned home looking thoroughly mated.

Dean had been particularly thorough.....

Although any heat-mating had more than a ninety-nine per cent chance of resulting in pregnancy, Castiel still wanted to share his news with his brother, who was most likely in the same happy state. Normally this would have entailed a short carriage ride across to Lynton Grange, but Sam and Gabriel had gone on a belated honeymoon trip to Scotland. Fortunately his brother was due back two days after he had informed his mate of the news, which had the added bonus that the carriage ride was only slightly uncomfortable, even with two cushions. Though when he arrived, he found that he would indeed not be alone in being a pregnant Bennet.  
   
“I feel like a blooming whale!” Gabriel groaned, walking carefully over to the couch before easing himself gently down onto it.  
   
His younger brother smiled.  
   
“Gabe, we’re both barely showing”, he said soothingly. “Do you have a due date?”  
   
“End of January or start of February”, Gabriel said, reaching almost inevitably for a cream cake from the stand. “And you?”  
   
“St. David’s Day, so a month later”, Castiel said with a smile.  
   
He noticed as he sipped his tea that the footman at the door stayed inside until Gabriel waved him away, and that the man – an alpha, unusually – looked rather cross. He waited until the doors were shut before speaking.  
   
“Trouble in paradise?” he asked.  
   
“No”, Gabriel said, starting on his second cake. “Why do you ask?”  
   
“Your footman looks rather cross”, Castiel observed.  
   
“Sam sacked one of them last week”, Gabriel explained. “You know how some alphas and betas don’t like taking orders from an omega, even the master’s mate. He caught one of them boasting to the others about how he enjoyed doing anything I asked deliberately slowly. Gave the man a week’s pay and dismissed him, and said that anyone who felt the same about following my commands could have the same.”  
   
“Did anyone?” Castiel asked.  
   
“No”, Gabriel said, “but Jukes there was in charge of Sam’s hunting-lodge in Inverness-shire until he sold it off whilst we were up there. The only vacancy available on the estate was for a footman here, and he doesn’t like it. But Sam has already found him a post at another lodge just over the Border in Roxburghshire, and he starts there next month. Can’t say I’ll miss him, especially as Sam had been mounting guard over me ever since it was confirmed.”  
   
“Dean is just as bad!” Castiel smiled. “When I left, I joked about putting railings along the side of the carriage for extra protection, and he was actually considering it! I take the stairs extra carefully just to keep him happy.”  
   
“Sam wants the staff to mount a permanent guard when he’s not here”, Gabriel sighed. “Except for the alphas, of course. It’s all very well, but I just want to have…..”  
   
“Gabe!” Castiel said warningly. His brother looked at him in wide-eyed innocence.  
   
“I was going to say ‘some time to ourselves’”, he said in mock offence. “Besides, if what they say about pregnancy is true, then we’re both going to be pretty demanding of our poor mates quite soon.”  
   
Castiel smiled, and hesitated before breaching the next subject.  
   
“Are either of you hoping for anything in particular?” he ventured.  
   
It was a prickly subject. Society was still very much alpha-orientated, and virtually every alpha hoped that their first-born would be a healthy alpha male, to continue the line. More than one estate had been reduced to ruin by the legal fees as younger alphas tried to assert their claims over older betas or omegas. The law was most regrettably unclear over such matters.  
   
“He says he does not mind”, Gabriel said with a knowing look, “but I would wager that like Dean, he hopes for an alpha. I do not mind what it is, provided they are healthy.”  
   
That too was a dangerous subject. Despite the improvements in midwifery the century before, childbirth was still a dangerous time, more so for omegas than women.  
   
“I think we are both having alphas”, Castiel said with a smile.  
   
“Why?” his brother asked.  
   
“Because that was what Mrs. Barnes wagered on in the staff pool”, he said with a smile, “and she is rarely wrong!”  
   
They both laughed.  
   
+~+~+  
   
October 1801  
   
Captain Adam Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow as his cousin and friend walked gingerly into the room after him. The autumn sunlight shone lazily through the windows at Pemberley, as if it wasn’t really sure it was worth the effort.  
   
“You look awful!” the soldier said, concerned. “Is something wrong?”  
   
“It’s just Cas”, Dean said, running a hand through his untidy hair. “He’s going through that part of pregnancy when he wants sex morning, noon and night.”  
   
Adam chuckled.  
   
“You say that like it is a bad thing”, he teased. “I wish I had a sex-starved omega waiting to warm my bed for me at nights.”  
   
“Never mind warming the bed, he won’t let me sleep!” Dean groused. “He wants sex all the damned time, Adam! I am shattered! And the staff keep sniggering at me staggering around all day long, looking like someone just raised me from the dead!”  
   
The alpha sank down heavily onto the couch, which turned out to be a mistake as he uttered a sharp yelp of pain. His cousin raised an eyebrow.  
   
“Do not say it!” Dean said testily. “Honestly, I thought my first rut was bad, but it was nothing compared to this. Never mind him; I am the one who may not survive this pregnancy!”  
   
Adam bit back a laugh.  
   
“So what news from London?” Dean inquired. “Your brothers are all right, I hope?”  
   
The captain’s four elder brothers were all connected to the military, although his eldest brother had a post in name only, being heir to the sizable Fitzwilliam estate. The soldier frowned.  
   
“Not good”, he said. “The papers are overjoyed at the peace with France, but I suspect they will be less so when the whole picture emerges. Basically Boney gets to keep almost all his ill-gotten gains, including the Netherlands.”  
   
“Surely not?” Dean said, surprised. “We are allowing the French to base their whole navy in a sheltered bay just hours from our shores?”  
   
“Apparently so”, his cousin sighed. “Ever since Pitt went, Addleton has proved useless. Our only hope now is that the Little General over-reaches himself.”  
   
“Is that likely?” Dean asked.  
   
“I think so”, Adam said. “Like all tyrants, he needs to keep winning, or people start to question him. He has most of Europe subdued except for us, so we are the most obvious target. And all these imbeciles that are heading over to France to ‘see the brave new Republic’! I almost hope war does break out again, and strands the lot of them over there!”  
   
His cousin chuckled. Adam looked at him cautiously.  
   
“I can see you are not doing overly well”, he smirked, ignoring the dark look the alpha gave him, “but how is Castiel doing?”  
   
Dean’s face lit up at the mention of his mate. He opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment a footman appeared and muttered something to him.  
   
“What, again?” Dean exclaimed.  
   
“You go on ahead!” Adam laughed. “I can talk to what is left of you later!”  
   
The alpha stood and walked away like a man condemned. His cousin managed not to laugh until he was gone. Just.  
   
+~+~+  
   
December 1801  
   
At the start of the month Dean had moved his and Castiel’s bedroom to one of the downstairs bedrooms for the remainder of his mate’s pregnancy. Although the new room was considerably smaller than the master bedroom, it was more than adequate, especially now Castiel had stopped demanding his husband’s ‘attentions’ on a far too frequent basis. And contrary to what Dean Winchester had always thought, it was possible to have too much of a good thing!  
   
It was Christmas Eve. Castiel was sat up in bed reading when his mate came up with breakfast. The omega raised an eyebrow; breakfast in bed was a luxury they did not often afford themselves.  
   
“We have something to celebrate”, Dean beamed, setting the huge tray on the small rolling table and pulling it to the bedside.  
   
“What?” Castiel asked, curious. He was getting large now, but his mate seemed to find his bloated form even more irresistible than normal, and he felt happy that things were progressing so well.  
   
“I just had a message from Lynton”, Dean said. “Gabriel gave birth in the small hours of this morning, a healthy alpha, eight pounds exactly.”  
   
Castiel winced at that. Omega offspring were usually slightly lighter than those of women, and his small-framed brother must have been in agony trying to push that out. And so early, at least a full month ahead of schedule.  
   
“Baby and both parents are doing fine, despite him being over a month early”, Dean reassured him. “I sent a message back saying we would not come over until invited, though of course we would love to come as soon as we could. But I expect they will want to celebrate Christmas with the little mite.”  
   
“Not that little”, Castiel observed, wondering if Mrs. Barnes had indeed been right, and if his bloated figure meant that he too might be carrying an alpha. He hoped so, not so much for himself but in that it would please his mate who, despite his modern approach to life, had a weakness when it came to the succession to the estate. Dean saw him looking pensive, and entwined their fingers together.  
   
“I do not care as long as it is healthy”, he said. “I love you more than any child you could ever carry for me, Cas.”  
   
The omega smiled up at him.  
   
+~+~+  
   
January 1802  
   
Christmas that year had been good, only slightly marred when Castiel had a bout of nausea in the week that followed. So it was New Year’s Day when he and Dean finally made it over to Lynton Grange to see the new arrival.  
   
“He’s beautiful”, Castiel smiled, looking down at the child. He knew better than to ask to hold him, much as he wanted to; even though he was Dean’s friend, Sam would be instinctively protective towards his alpha son and heir. The boy had fair hair and had been lucky enough to inherit Gabriel’s golden eyes. “He seems quite large, especially considering he arrived early.”  
   
“The midwife reckons he’ll be as tall as me one day”, Sam said proudly.  
   
“But hopefully more collected”, Dean said with a smile. “Remember that time you tried to take dancing lessons?”  
   
“I still think you placed that broom there”, Sam quipped, but without any heat.  
   
“And the bucket?” Dean quipped back. Sam blushed.  
   
“Cut it out, you two”, Gabriel scolded. “We’ve chosen a name, by the way, and the christening is in a week’s time.”  
   
“What is it?” Dean asked.  
   
“Samandriel”, Sam said proudly. “An angel name, and mine as well.  
   
Dean wondered at that moment whether Cas would want an angel name for their child. It was not something they had discussed, partly for fears of putting a jinx on things, but they would have to start thinking soon. In the meantime they both crooned over the newest Bingley.  
   
+~+~+  
   
The carriage ride back to Pemberley was slow, on Dean’s orders because even on the more than passable road he did not wish to see his mate get jerked about, Once dinner was served and the servants withdrew, Dean spoke.  
   
“You were rather quiet when Gabriel mentioned about the boy’s name”, he ventured carefully. “Have you been thinking about names for our child when it is born?”  
   
Castiel reddened.  
   
“I did have one idea for a boy”, he said. “But you are going to think it odd.”  
   
“Not if you don’t tell me what it is, I won’t”, Dean said cheerfully. “Go on.”  
   
“Scaden”, Castiel said, so quietly that his mate could hardly hear him.  
   
“Unusual”, the alpha said. “Any reason why? Does it mean anything?”  
   
“It’s just all the different letters in the words ‘Dean’ and ‘Cas’, re-arranged”, his mate said, blushing even more. “I tried my full name, but could not get anything workable.”  
   
“I rather like it”, Dean said. “A good name for a boy or a girl. Yes, Scaden Winchester.”  
   
Castiel looked at him in surprise, and Dean smiled at him. Just two more months to go……


	2. Belated Blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's first-born arrives (eventually), he goes to London to help out an old friend, and there is an Arthurian flavour to events at Lynton.

March 1802  
   
“It’ll all end in tears, mark my words!”  
   
Mrs. Barnes flounced across the room on her daily walk round to inspect her maids’ work. Dean had been telling his mate about all the excitement in London now that the peace treaty with the French was about to be formally signed, and how everyone was looking forward to an end to nearly a decade of war. The alpha smiled at her vehemence.  
   
“You seem very sure of that, Mrs. Barnes”, he said courteously. He knew the woman worked wonders to keep a place as huge as Pemberley going, let alone making it a fit place to raise a family. He doubted that the green- and blue-painted room at the back of the house would have been ready for Scaden Winchester, should he or she ever deign to put in an appearance.  
   
“That Napoleon fellow can’t be trusted”, she said darkly. “He’s French, for one thing! And beheading poor King Louis like that!”  
   
“To be fair, that wasn’t him”, Dean pointed out.   
   
Castiel coughed. Dean patted him absently on his impossible hair as he leaned on the mantle-piece, soaking in the warmth of a blazing fire on a cold late winter’s day. It was eleven days after the baby's due date, and the omega felt fit to burst,  
   
“There’ll be trouble, mark my words”, she said bitterly. “Though of course you and the laird have more important things to attend to right now.”  
   
“Indeed we do”, Dean smiled.  
   
“Indeed we do!” Castiel said with a gasp. “Dean, it’s coming!”  
   
+~+~+  
   
Though he was not really superstitious, Dean had hoped for a March birth rather than a February one, making his first child a spring rather than a winter baby in at least one sense. So he had been quietly pleased when St. David’s Day heralded the third month whilst Castiel was still pregnant, though he had been very careful not to voice that pleasure. His poor mate was increasingly uncomfortable with all the extra mass in his body, and was also very emotional.   
   
However, as the March days had ticked by without any sign that Dean’s first child wanted to grace the world with its presence, the alpha had begun to grow increasingly anxious. The baby seemed determine to stay inside of Castiel as long as possible, and whilst Dean could understand that, he wanted to see an end to his mate’s sufferings, let alone his first child. So the interruption to their conversation twelve days into the month came as a blessed relief.  
   
What followed, however, was tortuous. Mrs. Barnes, who had attended some births in her time, advised that they send for the midwife with all haste, as baby Winchester seemed to be making a determined break for freedom. Fortunately the lady lived in nearby Lambton, and she was brought to the house in barely an hour (Dean made a note to tip the footman who fetched her later that day, once the crisis was over). And then things moved fast.   
   
Dean Winchester had never been that good with the sight of blood, and if truth be told, he would much rather have waited out the whole ghastly experience until it was all over. But his mate looked so terrified at what was happening that he rapidly shoved all such thoughts aside, and sat there holding Castiel’s hand. Right up to the moment of birth, when the midwife told Castiel to push and he not only let out a string of swear words that surprised his mate, but grabbed Dean’s hand so hard that he must have come close to breaking it. The alpha’s eyes watered, but he kissed his mate and uttered praises at how well he was doing…..  
   
And then he heard it. Two new-born lungs at full volume, announcing that Scaden Winchester had most definitely arrived. Dean waited anxiously as the midwife did what she had to do (mercifully Castiel’s shuddering body hid him from the worst of it), until she held up a surprisingly large baby.  
   
“Definitely an alpha”, she said firmly. “Fair hair, and I doubt it will darken much from that shade. And he has his father’s green eyes.”  
   
She quickly wiped the child down and handed him to Castiel, whom Dean had raised from the makeshift bed. The omega looked down at the new life that he and Dean had created, and managed something between a sob and a smile.  
   
“Hullo, Scaden”, he whispered. “I hope you’ll be more punctual in life than you have been up till now. You’re almost as bad as your father!”  
   
Dean chuckled, and tickled his son’s chest. The baby gurgled, and looked straight at his father through eyes that, if anything, were greener than Dean’s own.  
   
“Hold him, Dean”, Castiel urged. “He’s your son too.”  
   
Dean gently took the baby from his mate, and snuggled him onto the crook of his arm. He was almost as large as Samandriel had been when they had visited Lynton, and he wondered if the boy would grow up to tower over both his parents. But that was all for the future. Right here, right now, Dean could not have been happier.  
   
+~+~+  
   
May 1802  
   
Fiddes School was one of the top educational establishments in London, and not even the best connections would guarantee your child a place there. Though of course, they helped.  
   
The headmaster, an elderly alpha called Mr. Fullerton, smiled benevolently at his guest.  
   
“Lord Winchester, this is an honour”, he beamed. “And belated congratulations on your new son.”  
   
“Thank you”, Dean said, taking a seat. “I am sorry to say that my business here today, though short, is not pleasant.”  
   
Mr. Fullerton’s smile slipped somewhat.  
   
“Oh?” he said.  
   
“Indeed”, Dean said. “An old acquaintance of mine, a lady now called Mrs. Braeden, has her son here. Benjamin.”  
   
“Mr. Holt’s class”, the headmaster said. “Is there a problem?”  
   
“There are two”, Dean said flatly. “First, his form tutor has been bullying him, and has threatened to have him expelled if he dares to complain.”  
   
The headmaster’s expression was guarded.  
   
“Well, of course I can launch a full investigation into such claims”, he said carefully.  
   
Dean shook his head.  
   
“That is the second thing”, he said. “I have some rather interesting contacts in London’s fair city, sir. And one of them has been looking into your Mr. Holt. It seems that is teaching qualification is – how shall I put it – somewhat questionable?”  
   
“How so?” the headmaster asked.  
   
“The American college at which he claims to have studied does not, in fact, exist”, Dean said bluntly. “Which means, of course, that the man is a fraud. Now I could go to the newspapers with this story” – he smiled inwardly at the look of terror that that evinced from the headmaster’s face – “but for young Benjamin’s sake, I wish for as little disruption to his education as possible.”  
   
He stared pointedly at the other alpha.  
   
“Indeed”, the headmaster rallied. “I am sure that Mr. Holt will be leaving us quite soon, anyway. Possibly even today. Quite probably, in fact. Um, your inquiries did not extend to any other teachers at this school, I suppose?”  
   
Dean smiled knowingly.  
   
“I believe that, unless they affect me in some was as Mr. Holt’s has, a man’s personal peccadilloes are his own affair”, he said. “But you might talk to your deputy about his wives. Plural.”  
   
Somehow the headmaster went even paler.  
   
+~+~+  
   
July 1802  
   
Of course he was pleased. But he could not but help feeling just a little bit jealous.  
   
“What can I say?” Gabriel grinned as they sat in the sitting-room at Pemberley “Sam is a very virile young alpha. And with no brothers, he’s determined to secure the line, and I’m equally determined to help him.”  
   
“Too much information, Gabriel!” Castiel said, smiling slightly. “But I’m happy for you.”  
   
“It will be your turn soon”, Gabriel said knowingly. “I can smell you coming into heat right now.”  
   
The maid bringing their tea coughed and turned an alarming shade of red, and Castiel swatted at his brother, who grinned unrepentantly.  
   
“My due date is New Year’s Eve”, the older omega said, “so we may have extra cause to welcome in eighteen hundred and three. And sex whilst pregnant….”  
   
The maid virtually ran from the room. Castiel scowled at his brother.  
   
“You will go after her and apologize this minute!” he snapped.  
   
“But Cassie….”  
   
“Now, Gabriel! I mean it!”  
   
The older omega sulked, but did as he was told.   
   
+~+~+  
   
One of the things that worried Castiel about his general health was that his heats were more irregular than for a normal omega of his age. As an un-mated omega he had never had to bother with heat suppressants, and now of course he and Dean wanted a family together, but he had hoped that after mating his heats would become more regular. This, his first post-birth heat, had been a couple of weeks late, which had caused Dean to have to keep rescheduling his work to be ready for when it finally broke. Castiel hoped the alpha would not mind being inconvenienced like this.  
   
Dean was out on an outlying farm for most of the day, and Castiel dined alone before going up to bed. His heat was almost here now, and Mrs. Barnes had already arranged for the alpha staff to move to the far side of the house. Not that any of them would try anything – Dean would kill anyone who laid a finger on his omega, Castiel was sure of that – but it was better to be safe than sorry….  
   
The omega jumped as the bedroom door flew open, and one look at his mate told him that Dean knew. Whether it was the sweat, the wide eyes or the positively feral glare, Dean knew.  
   
It was going to be a rough night, Castiel thought pleasurably.  
   
+~+~+  
   
October 1802  
   
Dean woke feeling unusually tired, and slowly realized that it was still dark outside. Even the morning chorus hadn’t started yet, with the birds doing whatever the hell they did in the mornings. Besides being too damned noisy….  
   
Then he realized what was amiss. The bed was still warm but definitely minus one omega, and there was the sound of Cas throwing up through the open door of the connected bathroom Dean had had built next to their bedroom. The alpha’s eyes lit up only momentarily before he sprinted across the room, careless of his nakedness.  
   
Cas was sat on the floor draped round the brand-new flush toilet (possibly the first in Derbyshire, the builder had said), looking a deathly shade of green. Dean stared at him in a mixture of hope and pity, and his angel slowly looked him in the eye and nodded….  
   
Scaden Winchester was not going to be an only child for much longer.  
   
+~+~+  
   
December 1802  
   
It was New Year's Eve. Gabriel Bingley sat, or more accurately fell, into a heavily cushioned couch.  
   
“I think I’m birthing a cricket team here”, he grumbled. “It had better be at least twins, or getting that out of me is going to end me!”  
   
Castiel noticed how his brother's alpha mate went pale when he said that, and sought to change the subject.  
   
“I see the new prime minister has passed a law to limit the hours children work in factories”, he observed. “Not before time.”  
   
“The devil will be in enforcing it”, Sam said, still eying his mate cautiously. “Gabe, will you still be wanting to stay up to see the fireworks tonight?”  
   
“With Bingleys Two through whatever poised to arrive any minute?” the omega yawned. “Sorry, love, but I am exhausted. I think I will turn in early.”  
   
He rolled himself upright and yawned again. Then he looked down in puzzlement.  
   
“Oh”, he said softly.  
   
“What?” Sam and Castiel said together.  
   
“I think my waters just broke.”  
   
+~+~+  
   
January 1803  
   
The New Year celebrations at Lynton Grange were put on hold that year, as Gabriel’s labour pains stared in the middle of the last day of the old year, and proceeded to last all the way through the first day of the new one, and into the small hours of the second. Dean came over to stay with his omega mate, and the three of them took turns so that two of them were always with Gabriel. Sam was finally persuaded to catch some sleep at midnight on the second, only to be wakened by Castiel three hours later.  
   
He was a father again. Twice over.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Castiel knew his brother very well, and despite his obvious joy at coming through his ordeal and producing not only two healthy children but one an alpha and one a beta, he knew something was not quite right. The blond omega did not quite look him in the eye when he spoke of his happiness, and Castiel challenged him over it.  
   
Gabriel looked at his mate warily.  
   
“You said I might get to choose the names this time”, he said, so quietly that the other three almost couldn’t hear him.  
   
“Of course”, Sam said. Then he belatedly seemed to realize, and went slightly pale. “Er, what were you thinking?”  
   
“Lancelot and Galahad”, Gabriel said, looking distinctly edgy. “I know they were father and son, but I always thought if it was twins, I’d like…. well, you know…..um…. you hate them don’t you?”  
   
“I love them!” Sam said firmly. He looked down at the fair-haired alpha baby looking up at him out of impossibly blue eyes, and gently rocked him. “Lancelot Bingley.”  
   
“And Galahad Bingley”, Gabriel said, looking intensely relieved, nursing the almost identical if slightly smaller beta baby in his arms.   
   
Dean and Castiel looked on smiling, and the alpha wrapped a protective arm around his own mate.  
 


	3. Back To War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The peace with France proves short-lived, unlike the pregnancies at both Pemberley and Lynton, which keep coming. And Dean's sister finds love.

February 1803  
   
Dean sighed heavily as he read his morning paper, and looked across at his mate and his alpha son. Scaden was apparently trying to decide whether to eat his breakfast, throw it at his nurse-maid or wear it, whilst a heavily pregnant Castiel was looking mournfully at the kettle of steaming coffee.  
   
“Still can’t face it?” Dean said sympathetically. His mate shook his head.  
   
“This child is not going to like coffee”, he said firmly. “And he is making sure I do not like it until he is ready to make his appearance. What is in the paper that you do not like?”  
   
Dean folded the newspaper up.  
   
“The French have been having secret negotiations with the Americans to sell them the city of New Orleans”, he said, scowling.  
   
“Why is that a bad thing?” Castiel asked.  
   
“Because with the money they would get from the sale, they would restart the war again”, Dean said. “Adam tells me there are several problems with the peace treaty they signed last week, mainly because that Frog insists on us fulfilling all our parts of the deal before he even thinks about honouring his!”  
   
“More war”, Castiel sighed unhappily. “I only hope it will be over before our boy over there is old enough to want to take part.”  
   
That caused Dean to hesitate. The last war had lasted the best part of a decade, and had left Republican France the mistress of mainland Europe. Only the watchful eye of the British Navy, equally mistress of the world’s seas, kept her in some sort of check. A war this time might last even longer.  
   
+~+~+  
   
March 1803  
   
This was the year that Dean’s sister Anna turned twenty-one. Dean had been planning a major party tor her that spring, but she had seemed only half-hearted in her interest in the preparations.   
   
And now he knew why. A nondescript beta in his thirties was standing next to her, the two of them facing Dean in his study. Castiel was sat on the couch, heavily pregnant and with a large bowl of barley sugar, a belated craving which had arrived last week and showed no sign of letting up. As if he needed to put on any extra weight, the omega had groused!  
   
Now, however, said omega was more concerned with preventing bloodshed in the study. The beta before them was a Mr. Edward Phelps, the Member of Parliament for Derbyshire and a surprisingly young one at that considering he was only thirty-three years of age. That he was loosely related to the Dukes of Devonshire may, Castiel suspected, have played a part in his success. That he had just admitted to covertly seeing Dean’s only sister for the past six months may have been about to play a part in his untimely demise.  
   
“Eddie and I love each other”, Anna said firmly. “I shall be twenty-one in two months’ time, brother, and although I know you will retain control over my finances for some time….”  
   
“Is that what all this is about?” Dean demanded suspiciously. “Marrying so you can take control of your own money?”  
   
The M.P. snorted and advanced in front of Anna, staring Dean down. Which was quite impressive, considering he was shorter and less muscled. Castiel flinched, but then caught the tell-tale flicker of a smile at the corner of his mate’s mouth. Dean admired someone who was prepared to stand their ground.  
   
“Sir, I would take Anna in her shift!” he said sternly. “You may keep her moneys for all the good they will do you, but you cannot keep her from loving me, nor keep me from loving her. We would prefer to marry with your blessing, but are quite prepared to do so without!”  
   
Dean stared back at him for a moment, then nodded.  
   
“All right”, he said.   
   
Castiel suppressed a smile. Anna and Mr. Phelps looked dumbstruck.  
   
“Is that it?” she said at last, clearly stunned. “No objections? No threats? No anything?”  
   
“I am sure you can make clear to your future husband what will happen if he mistreats you in any way”, Dean smiled, baring his teeth slightly in a way that caused the beta to edge backwards. “Assuming poor Cas doesn’t have another elephantine pregnancy, you could be married on your birthday, if you wished.”  
   
Anna seemed to finally snap out of her daze.  
   
“Yes”, she said, still eyeing her brother cautiously. “That would be wonderful.”  
   
+~+~+  
   
“Did you know?” Dean asked later, when the two of them were in bed together and Castiel was trying in vain to get comfortable.  
   
“I found out just after Christmas”, he admitted. “I advised them to come to you at once, but they were both too scared. You looked like you were going to eat him at one point today.”  
   
“If he does not treat her right, I still may!” Dean rumbled.  
   
Castiel smiled, and nuzzled back into his mate's embrace, sighing happily.  
   
+~+~+  
   
April 1803  
   
As with their first son, the latest Winchester seemed determine to delay his arrival onto the world stage for as long as possible. Typically Castiel’s waters broke right in the middle of a rare visit from Crowley and Inias Collins, who had brought the news that they too were expecting. Castiel later said that the excitement this news brought was what gave him (or Winchester Junior Two) the push one or other needed, for once labour had started things sped along rapidly, and a healthy omega was delivered late on the evening of the same day, the twenty-second.  
   
“He has your eyes, Cas”, Dean said in wonderment, holding the tiny baby in his arms. “And his hair is somewhere betwixt and between, though the midwife says that it may darken later on.”  
   
Castiel lay back on the birthing-bed and sighed contentedly. The speed with which the new arrival had come had left him more exhausted than he had expected, and he felt that horrible emptiness as his body slowly began to return to normal. But the look of sheer joy on his mate’s face was more than enough compensation. And he was especially pleased that this was an omega, like him.  
   
“What would you like to name him?” he asked Dean.  
   
The alpha smiled.  
   
“I thought we’d have another angel name”, he said, “especially as I have another precious omega to care for. Diniel, an angel of childbirth, and a bit like my name. And after your lost brother, if you did not mind.”  
   
“I love it”, Castiel smiled. “Diniel Winchester.”  
   
Privately, he wondered if Dean might have been a little disappointed at not having a second alpha son like his friend, but his mate seemed happy enough. And once his body had recovered, they could always have more children.  
   
+~+~+  
   
The marriage of Anna Winchester and Edward Phelps passed off well, although the day was slightly marred by the news that, just as all the pessimists had predicted, Great Britain was once more at war with Napoleonic France. The French had claimed they had the right to intervene in a dispute in Switzerland (“sending forty thousand soldiers armed to the teeth is some damned intervention!” Dean had snorted at the time), then demanded that the weak British government under Prime Minister Addleton keep their side of the peace treaty and evacuate Malta, a thorn in the French side in what they regarded as their Mediterranean. Almost everyone had been surprised when Addleton had stood firm, and war was back on, especially as the Americans had brought not just New Orleans but the whole of Louisiana Territory from the French, virtually doubling the size of their country overnight. Things did not look good.  
   
+~+~+  
   
November 1803  
   
Castiel had been feeling tired of late, especially when at the end of September Anna had announced that she was expecting. Despite his (grudging) approval of her marriage, Dean had been upset by the news, and his mate had had to console him. Fortunately Castiel had been in the middle of his first major post-pregnancy heat at the time, so he had been able to keep his mate’s mind occupied.  
   
Very occupied. Castiel smiled at the memory.   
   
The only downside of Castiel’s recent poor health was that he had been unable to travel back to Hertfordshire to see Crowley and Inias’ first-born child, an alpha called Nehemiah. He had pointedly not noticed his husband’s relief at their not having to call on his mother at the same time. He had even felt slightly nauseous after going over to congratulate his brother at Gabriel’s latest pregnancy.  
   
Doctor Alton finished whatever he was looking at and turned back to the omega with a smile. Though the local doctor, Aloysius Hume, was all right in his way, Castiel had never quite felt comfortable with the alpha, and Dean had been more than willing to pay for James Alton, a beta, to travel all the way from Derby to see if he was all right.  
   
“I have good news, Monseigneur Winchester”, the doctor beamed. “You are definitely expecting again.”  
   
Castiel smiled in relief. He had suspected as much – ‘an omega always knows’ the old saying went – but it was good to have it confirmed. It looked like all that ‘consolation’ at Anna’s news was to have more consequences than he had thought.  
   
“From what you told me about your last heat, I would mark that as the date of conception, which would suggest a birth at or around the twenty-fifth of June”, he said with a smile. “A summer baby, most likely.”  
   
“I am hoping for a beta”, Castiel admitted, “having an alpha and omega already. Three boys and no succession issues.”  
   
The doctor frowned at that.  
   
“I hope Mr. Winchester treats you well”, he said sternly. “Some alphas regard their mates as little more than breeding-machines, and it makes me angry.”  
   
“Dean would not care what the child is, provided it is healthy”, Castiel reassured him. “Especially now he has an alpha son to succeed him. I should get dressed now.”  
   
“I shall wait outside”, the doctor said, “then if you have any more questions, I shall be pleased to answer them.”  
   
+~+~+  
   
Dean took the news very well. Very, very well. 

+~+~+

January 1804

It was decidedly fortunate that the stage of Castiel’s pregnancy when he craved sex even more than usual happened in the first month of the year, and just caught Dean’s thirtieth birthday. It made it quite memorable, even if Dean did have to spend half the following day recovering!  
   
+~+~+  
   
February 1804  
   
“Dean”, Castiel said at breakfast one morning, “would it be all right if I had someone to stay for a little while?”  
   
His mate was just about to tell him that that was quite all right when a horrible though occurred to him.  
   
“Your mother isn’t coming, is she?” he said, looking horrified.  
   
Castiel chuckled at his expression.  
   
“I could always invite her if you wish”, he said, earning himself a scowl. “No, it is a second cousin of my father, a Doctor Ryazan Khrushnic. He planned to emigrate from Russia to the United States, but having got this far, the shipping company with which he purchased a ticket has gone bankrupt. He just needs a place to stay for a while; he is in a small hotel in Hull at the moment, but of course he only has limited funds…..”  
   
“Cas”, Dean cut in. “Any relative of yours – even your mother, if I must – would be welcome here. I shall send the carriage to collect your cousin at once.”  
   
Castiel smiled.  
   
“I am sure I can find a way to show my gratitude”, he said, looking at the alpha from beneath his lashes.   
   
Dean gulped.  
   
+~+~+  
   
The two of them were close enough to presentable (love-bites excepted) later that evening when Mr. Khrushnic arrived. He was a short, rather scruffy beta, about fifty years of age and looking decidedly run-down. He had tears in his eyes at his cousin’s enthusiastic greeting, and Dean left the two of them to catch up over dinner.  
   
+~+~+  
   
There was someone in the bedroom.  
   
Dean wondered if Pemberley on fire, which was one of the few reasons he allowed staff into his and Cas’ bedroom. At least they had had the sense to send a beta footman; the one time an alpha had come into the room he had started sniffing at an in-heat Castiel, only to end up pinned against the wall by a very naked and absolutely furious Dean, snarling into the terrified man's face.  
   
“Sorry to wake you so early, sir”, the footman said from what was very obviously a safe distance, “but the laird asked to be told the moment his brother went into labour. We have just been so informed.”  
   
“Thank you, Wolstenholme”, Dean said, yawning. “Please send in our valets, if you would be so good.”  
   
The footman nodded and departed, rather quickly, Dean noted with a small smile. He could not be expected not to defend his mate from other alphas when roused. And he had paid for the doctor to treat Peterson that time.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Getting the carriage ready to take a five-months pregnant omega over in at least some comfort took some little time, and Castiel was champing at the bit when they finally set off. The ride through the slowly lightening skies was cold but mercifully short, and they were soon pulling up at Lynton. It seemed, however, that the newest Bingley had beaten them to it.  
   
“Joscelyn”, Sam said, proudly holding the small beta. The new arrival had medium brown hair and very dark brown eyes that stared consideringly at the couple looking down on him before he yawned and went to sleep on them both.  
   
“Just like his father”, Gabriel teased, earning himself a nudge from his mate.   
   
“Four sons”, Sam said quietly. “I am so proud of you, Gabe.”  
   
The blond omega smiled weakly up at him, and himself yawned. Castiel took that as the hint it was, and the three of them took Baby Joscelyn away so Gabriel could get some much-needed rest.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Note: The head of the dominant party in the British parliament was technically the First Lord of the Treasury, though he was commonly referred to as the Prime Minister. Only later did that become the official title as well.


	4. Death In The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's third birth definitely does not go according to plan, and he has to rely on his visiting cousin in his hour of need. As the title says, there is a death.....

February 1804  
   
Dean was nervous. Yes, his mate still had four months until the scheduled birth, but he was hyper-protective of Castiel at the best of times, and he really did not want to be travelling south at this time of year. Especially as he had only arrived back from London a week prior. But there were reasons.  
   
“Poor Uncle Rufus”, Castiel sighed as the coach bowled along a surprisingly tolerable road. “I feared he and Aunt Karen trying for a child this late in life might be a mistake.”  
   
Karen Turner, sister to Castiel’s mother, had died in childbirth ten days before. Typically Castiel’s mother had neglected to mention that she was even pregnant in her frequent letters, although she had found plenty of time to complain about virtually everything else (Dean had grumbled a little at having to pay for all this verbage, but Castiel had ‘persuaded’ him to accept it). The alpha did not dislike travelling, but he feared for his pregnant mate’s sake, even though Castiel was not showing that much.  
   
“You look like that new locomotive they say runs on rails”, Castiel teased. “All puffed out.”  
   
Dean pulled his omega closer to him, and re-wrapped the blanket over them both.  
   
“Once we get to London”, he whispered, “I’ll show you just how ‘puffed’ I am!”  
   
Castiel reddened.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Because he knew his mate, Castiel had persuaded Dean to have his mother visit them that August so she could see their little family, hopefully by then with a new addition. And no, Dean was not allowed to suddenly discover that he had urgent business in Scotland at the same time. The alpha had pouted, but had accepted his fate – at least, he had done after Castiel had outlined what sort of reward there would be after his mother had left.  
   
The omega smiled to himself. It was fortunate his husband was so easy to please.  
   
Of his three brothers, only Michael was at the house, and he barely acknowledged them from his book. Raphael, apparently, was visiting a friend in Bristol, who might help him pursue a possible career in the Church.   
   
“Dear Balthazar has gone off somewhere with Wickham on campaign, so of course he cannot write for security reasons” (Castiel bit back a smile as she fanned herself at the excitement of those words), “but I am sure he will once they get back.”  
   
And I am sure the moon is made of green cheese, Castiel thought, uncharitably if probably correctly.  
   
“We shall be dining at the local inn”, Dean said, “because we did not know the time of our arrival, and did not wish to put you to any trouble.”  
   
The omega admired the adroit way in which his mate managed to avoid his mother’s cooking. Although his stomach was grateful for it.  
   
“And most regrettably we cannot stay long”, Dean went on. “With Castiel’s time half gone already, I do not wish him to be away from his home for any longer than is necessary. We shall depart for London the day after the funeral.”  
   
“And I shall look forward to seeing you and my new grandson in a few months’ time!” Mrs. Bennet beamed.  
   
Castiel really wondered how his mate could keep a straight face at times like these.  
   
+~+~+  
   
The funeral passed off uneventfully, which Castiel was grateful for. He noticed Dean taking some time to talk to Uncle Rufus afterwards, and smiled at his mate when he came back over.  
   
“I made it clear to your uncle that he could call on my offices any time for help”, Dean explained. “Though I understand he is financially well set, it always helps to have a back-up, just in case.”  
   
Castiel smiled at him in gratitude.   
   
“I told Mother to only ask the staff to lay out come cold meats for us tonight”, he said, “as I was sure you would gorge yourself at the wake. Thankfully Uncle Rufus is quite modern; I always think it morbid to be eating in the same house as a dead person.”  
   
“We have successfully avoided your mother’s cooking!” Dean beamed. “As the vicar said, let us be thankful for small mercies.”  
   
Castiel swatted at him for that.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Mr. Collins had taken his mate to London after an outbreak of fever in Medlington village, with the gracious permission of Lady Naomi (who had decamped with her daughter to another of her properties in Sussex). Her Ladyship would doubtless have been grievously displeased had she but known that her local rector was staying at her nephew’s house in the capital, Dean having made it available as something far superior to the small lodgings that the Collinses had started out at.   
   
Dean frankly thought that Nehemiah Collins looked hideously ugly, but he wisely kept his opinions to himself. Then again, Dr. Khrushnic (enjoying a holiday in Blackpool whilst Dean and Castiel were in the South) had remarked that every parent thought all other babies looked hideous when compared to their own. The alpha caught his mate’s knowing look from across the cot, and blushed.  
   
“Lady Naomi is well”, Mr. Collins said politely, “though she did suffer a mild disappointment just after the recent festive season. She had hoped to arrange a marriage between Lady Lilith and a local landowner, but things fell through at a late stage.”  
   
“Why was that?” Dean asked.  
   
“He met her!” Inias Collins said acidly. His mate looked at him reprovingly, but the omega stared back unabashed.  
   
“Inny”, Mr. Collins said warningly.  
   
“Is that untrue?” his mate asked, raising an eyebrow at him.   
   
The portly beta reddened.  
   
“Lady Lilith, now she is of age, had acquired something of an air of consequence about her person”, he admitted ruefully. “She does not even have her mother’s charitable spirit to counter it.”  
   
“She told the poor man how lucky he was that she could even consider him!” Inias pointed out. “I recall that he almost ran out of the house after that!”

Dean seemed to be suffering some sort of coughing fit. His mate glared warningly at him.  
   
“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked, adroitly changing the subject. “You look well.”  
   
“My doctor proscribed some odd exercises to get me back into shape”, Inias said. “I am sure the staff think it was some sort of post-pregnancy thing, or just me going round the bend, but they worked.”  
   
“And how is Uriel?” Castiel asked. He came of age recently, did he not?”  
   
“A handful”, Inias admitted ruefully, “especially with Father absent so often. He seems to have inherited the wild genes of the family. He asked to come to see us in Kent, but I was about to give birth at the time, so I refused.”  
   
“I had a suspicion that he might outstay his welcome, such as it might have been”, Mr. Collins said. “And of course Inias was my first concern. Always will be.”  
   
His mate smiled at him.  
   
+~+~+  
   
March 1804  
   
Despite their plans to only spend a few days in London, that winter saw a heavy snowfall that closed most roads, and in the end it was the twenty-first before the temperatures rose enough to allow them to return North. Dean was positively champing at the bit, as Castiel now had barely three months left of his pregnancy. At least their cousin had had a longer than expected stay in Blackpool, the snow covering all of England.  
   
There was some good news on their return. Dean read the telegram and smiled.  
   
“My sister gave birth three days ago”, he beamed. “A daughter, named after her mother. I’m an uncle, Cas!”  
   
“Uncle Dean”, his mate said, considering the words. “Makes you sound quite old, doesn’t it?”  
   
Dean moved swiftly to wrap his mate in his arms.  
   
“Let’s get out of these clothes, and I’ll show you how old I am!” he hissed.  
   
“Promise?”  
   
+~+~+  
   
April 1804  
   
It was April the twenty-second. Dean sat there in the converted bedroom, holding his mate’s hand and silently praying. Castiel had gone into labour earlier that day.   
   
Over two months early.  
   
Dean Winchester was not a great believer in God, his life having had its fair share of vicissitudes (especially over his less than stellar wooing of his mate), but he had always believed two things. First, that things had finally seemed to be coming right, and second, that that meant some sort of calamity was lurking over the horizon, waiting to ruin everything. Today, it had hurtled over the horizon and hit him without warning.  
   
A servant had been dispatched to Derby for Doctor Alton, but Castiel’s cousin had said that a birth was likely before he could get here, especially since there had been a further heavy snowfall in recent days. The cold weather seemed to seep into Dean’s inner core. He was faced with the truly dreadful prospect of losing not only his third child but his mate, whom he loved so much. And in a moment of lucidity earlier, Cas had made him promise to put the little mite’s life ahead of his own.   
   
Dean prayed that he would not have to make that choice.  
   
Doctor Khrushnic had sedated Castiel heavily, and brewed up some concoction which he said would make his limbs much looser, enabling the birth to take place. Normally an omega would be kept alert so as to push out the new life, but the baby in this case was going to be very small, and not much effort should be needed. Dean watched as his mate drowsed, waiting for the inevitable.  
   
His cousin leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and Castiel’s grip on Dean’s hand tightened briefly before he groaned with effort. Dean felt tears in his eyes as his mate strained, but it was all over very soon – possibly too soon, Dean feared. The absence of a baby crying was somehow very loud.  
   
Doctor Khrushnic was doing something with the baby, Dean had no idea what. It seemed to last an eternity – then the silence was broken by the most wonderful sound in the world, a wail of disapproval from Dean’s new child.  
   
“A son”, Doctor Khrushnic said quietly. “A beta, though because he’s so early he will look very small. Castiel, we must get you to express some milk as soon as possible, and feed him up at every opportunity. But he seems healthy, all things considered. You have done very well.”  
   
“I’ll second that”, Dean said fervently.   
   
His mate smiled weakly up at him, whilst their new son made his unhappiness at the proceedings very clearly manifest.  
   
+~+~+  
   
May 1804  
   
“I am finally off!”  
   
Doctor Khruschnic had been due to depart on the twenty-fourth of April, but Dean had asked him to stay for the first few weeks just to reassure Castiel, even though Doctor Alton was now seeing him every day. Dean had rebooked him on a later ship, and upgraded him to First Class as a thank-you.”  
   
“Although there is no way I can thank you enough for what you have done”, Dean said gratefully as he and Castiel saw the doctor off. “But I have purchased some gold coins for you, and they will be sitting at the First Bank of Manhattan when you reach New York.”  
   
“Thank you”, the doctor smiled.  
   
“And we have one more thing”, Castiel said, “although it is not so much a gift as an obligation. We would like you to become an honorary godfather to our new son, Ryazan Winchester.”  
   
The doctor reddened.  
   
“I am honoured”, he smiled. “Thank you both, and do write me with the boy's progress. With parents like his, I am sure he will do well.”


	5. Hard Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Castiel's brothers forms a surprise union. The country goes through some hard times, and there is a letter from Kent.

July 1805  
   
Castiel had not though it had been possible to love his alpha even more, but the way Dean had behaved after their third son’s birth had taken so much out of his had proven him wrong. Doctor Khrushnic had advised, even without an examination, that having any further children would be extremely risky, and Castiel had half-expected his mate to immediately call in any and all other doctors in the area until he heard an opinion that differed from that. Instead, Dean had merely asked Doctor Alton to check Castiel over thoroughly and not even mentioned the possibility of future births. In private, he told the omega that he was so proud of him for producing him three such wonderful sons.

The omega may have cried that night.  
   
Ryazan’s first few months, and indeed much of his first year, was difficult for his parents. Although the boy rapidly put on weight – unlike his siblings, he always preferred to eat his food rather than try to wear it or throw it at the servants – he contracted a whole range of mercifully minor ailments, keeping his parents in a constant state of worry. When he reached his first birthday and Doctor Alton confirmed that he was now exactly the right size and weight for a beta his age, both Dean and Castiel were greatly relieved.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Castiel smiled as he read the first of his two letters  
   
“Inias and Crowley have just had a second son”, he told his mate. “An omega; they plan to call him Ion.”  
   
“Greek name?” Dean asked.   
   
“I knew you were more than just a pretty face”, Castiel chuckled, opening his second letter.  
   
“Hey!”  
   
Dean pouted at his mate, then grew concerned as Castiel frowned on reading his second letter.”  
   
“Bad news from home?” he asked. Even at this distance, Mrs. Bennet’s scrawl was unmistakeable. That, and there were eight pages Dean had had to pay for!  
   
“Not exactly”, Castiel said. “Rafe is married. Or soon will be.”  
   
Dean raised an eyebrow.  
   
“I thought he was working in the United States?” he said. “Not the best choice the way things are. They may side with the French any time now.”  
   
“He has apparently met a beta over there, and decided to ‘stay and do God’s work, and increase God’s flock in his Glory’”, Castiel quoted, keeping what Dean thought was an admirably straight face. “Mother is hitting the roof. Rafe plans to marry this Albertus person next month, and she will not be there.”  
   
“I could buy here a ticket to go there”, Dean offered at once.  
   
“And of course she would miss her trip here as a result”, the omega said.  
   
His mate blushed. Castiel could always see right through him. The omega smiled.  
   
“Make the offer today”, he said. “That could be our wedding present to Rafe – allowing our mother to be there for him.”  
   
“Bad omega!” Dean teased.  
   
“I could always invite her here when she comes back…”  
   
“I am writing the letter now”, Dean said quickly.  
   
Castiel smiled.  
   
+~+~+  
   
November 1805  
   
The war, Dean thought, was going badly for England. Though the previous month had seen the triumph at Trafalgar that had all but destroyed the navies of France and Spain, he knew it was but a temporary stay. Given enough time, France could either build and maintain more ships that her rival, and/or press into service those of other subject or supposedly neutral nations. Admiral Nelson’s brave sacrifice had brought them time, whilst the French – now under Emperor Napoleon of France and Italy – ruled the Continent with an iron first.  
   
The only good news except for that from the Iberian coast in recent days was that Gabriel Bingley was pregnant. Again. Castiel was pleased for him, though he was a little perplexed when, during the first visit after the news had broken, his brother burst out in tears as soon as he entered the room.  
   
“What is wrong?” the younger omega asked anxiously, hurrying over to comfort his brother.  
   
Gabriel stared at him through red eyes.  
   
“I do not know why, but I have been so emotional during this pregnancy”, he wept. “And when I thought of you…..”  
   
The sobbing increased in intensity. Castiel wiped away the tears with his handkerchief and cradled his brother to him.  
   
“What will be will be”, he muttered. “Dean and I have three wonderful sons, and I would most certainly never begrudge my dear brother even one moment of happiness.”  
   
Gabriel looked at him gratefully. 

“Besides, Dean and I still couple quite regularly”, Castiel said off-handedly. “We just avoid my heats when I am off the suppressants, that is all.”  
   
“Cassie!” Gabriel explained in horror. “I did not need to know that!”  
   
Castiel quirked an eyebrow at him.  
   
“We have three sons, Gabriel”, he reminded his brother with a smile. “”You have four, with another on the way. Clearly I do not need to draw any diagrams.”  
   
Gabriel pulled a face.  
   
“An omega should not have to even picture his baby brother learning the ropes when it comes to matters of….. coupling”, he said with a shudder.   
   
“We do”, Castiel said.  
   
“Do what?” Gabriel asked, puzzled.  
   
“Use ropes”, Castiel grinned. “Or at least soft cords. Knotting takes on quite another meaning when……”  
   
His brother yelped and threw a cushion at him.  
   
+~+~+  
   
March 1806  
   
Reuben Bingley was born just after midday on March the seventeenth, on a dark grey day that seemed to match the mood of the nation. Nelson’s funeral in London two months earlier had been followed by the death of the great William Pitt, and it was widely known that the new government was trying to negotiate a peace deal with the French, though few expected success.   
   
Gabriel Bingley’s labour had been long and difficult this time, and his mate had grown increasingly anxious for him. Although the omega had been able to hold his new-born son for a few moments after birth, and was clearly overjoyed that he now had another omega in the family, the doctors recommended him getting as much rest and as soon as possible, and he reluctantly agreed to go to sleep. Sam cradled his tiny new omega son in his huge arms.  
   
“He has my father’s brown-black hair”, Cas said with a weak smile. “But definitely your eyes.”  
   
“I was so worried about him”, Sam fretted. “I would have been happy to stop after Joss, but he wants a large family. He said he wants at least one more.”  
   
“Perhaps wait a couple of years before that”, Dean offered. “Not every omega wants sex all the time, Sammy.”  
   
“Speak for yourself”, Castiel said with a slight smirk. “You are lucky, Sam. Five wonderful sons now.”  
   
“I’m not sure ‘wonderful’ is quite the right word”, Sam admitted. “Guy and Lance are a right handful at the moment, always pulling pranks on each other. I made it clear that there would be punishments if they targeted the rest of us or the staff, though, after that incident with the maid and the bucket of water. And I made them clean it all up, too.”  
   
“Quite right too”, Dean said. “Spare the rod and spoil the child.”  
   
“Like letting Scay have bits of your dinner?” Castiel pointed out.  
   
His mate reddened. Sam laughed at him.

“I am teaching him how to eat well”, Dean said defensively. “Heavens, the boy actually looked like me might turn down pie the other day! What is the world coming to?”

His mate and his friend exchanged knowing looks, which Dean very pointedly ignored.  
   
+~+~+  
   
November 1806  
   
It had been a pretty miserable year, Dean thought as he laid back on the couch, his mate nuzzling into him under the blanket. Spring had proven a washout, whilst summer had put in an appearance for a couple of days in July and then apparently thought that that was more than enough effort on its part. Now they were well into autumn, and it seemed like they always had been.   
   
The fire crackled fiercely in the grate, and the omega nuzzled even closer to the alpha. Castiel's year had been as bad as the weather, Dean thought, all things considered. He had spent a lot of time over at Lynton Grange after the birth of Reuben Bingley, and although the little omega had done well, Gabriel had been struck down with a fit of depression, even shying away from seeing his and Mrs. Bennet when she came for a visit in July (though Dean could empathize with that!). And just when it had seemed Gabriel was coming round, disaster had struck from another direction.   
   
In August, Dean’s sister had miscarried of an alpha baby, some five months into her second pregnancy. Castiel had gone to stay with her at her request (the two had grown very close before her marriage), and whilst Dean missed his mate terribly, he understood. But it hadn’t made getting into a huge, cold and horribly empty bed every evening any easier. Possibly the hardest thing Dean had done in recent times was to send more of Castiel's clothes over so he could prolong his stay. The omega had only returned the day before, and had looked exhausted.  
   
One thing Dean had done which he had known would win his mate’s approval was to lower his exactions from his tenants, who he knew were finding life in wartime England increasingly hard. Earlier that month Emperor Napoleon had formally instituted the so-called Continental System in an attempt to cut off his enemy's trade, although of course with the Royal Navy firmly in control of the Continent’s sea-lanes, the French and their allies were now suffering as much if not even more. Apparently the Little General had forgotten that since most trade went by sea, Britannia ruling the waves might cause his idea to rebound on him rather badly. Though that was poor comfort to the Derbyshire men and women facing rapidly rising prices everywhere. Dean made a note that the annual Christmas dispersal in a few weeks’ time, which his wonderful mate had started every year to help their people out, should be larger than normal.  
   
“Would you like to get away from it all for a while?” Dean offered, hugging the omega even closer.  
   
Castiel shook his head.  
   
“Either Anna or Gabe may want me over at short notice”, he said. “I would rather be here, if that’s all right?”  
   
“As you wish, beloved”, Dean said, sighing as he held him close. The world outside was rough and uncertain, he thought, but as long as he had his omega, he would be all right. “As you wish.”  
   
He hesitated before breaching the next subject.  
   
“I had a letter from my aunt the other day”, he said quietly.  
   
He could feel the omega tense up. Lady Naomi de Burgh had received the news of their marriage with a vituperative missive, though she had not carried out her threat to try to influence other members of the family against it. She had however refrained from all communication since, which was awkward considering her employment of Mr. Collins as her vicar. Through him they received what little news there was of her.  
   
“What does your aunt say?” Castiel said quietly.  
   
“She asks if I have a ruby brooch that my mother left me”, Dean said, rubbing his hand through the omega’s ever unruly hair. “She wishes to make a presentation jewellery set for Lilith for her next birthday, rubies to go with her favourite dress.”  
   
Castiel turned to look at him.  
   
“Do you have it?” he asked.  
   
“I think so”, Dean said. “It would be in the box of jewellery I showed you when we married, and you picked out what you liked. I think it was my grandmother’s, so it was rather old and perhaps outdated.”  
   
“I remember it”, Castiel said. “Would you be prepared to part with it, though? It was your mother’s, after all?”

“Only if you do not wish to have it”, Dean said firmly.

Castiel thought for a moment.

“It would be a small olive-branch”, he said slowly, “and surely she cannot hold a grudge forever. Yes. Let her have it – but you might say that I part with it only in the spirit of friendship with my dear cousin Lilith.”

“She will hate that!” Dean said with a smile.

“That”, his mate said, “is the idea!”


	6. Birthday Ribbons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is Castiel's birthday, the one between twenty-nine and twenty-nine plus two. Dean promises not to do anything to celebrate it as his mate wants, and keeps his word – sort of.

March 1807

Before leaving, Castiel's cousin had advised him to avoid heat suppressants for at least six months and preferably a year, advice that Doctor Alton echoed when asked. He had also warned that once back on the suppressants, Castiel should only use them for six months at the most before allowing a heat to occur naturally, so as to prevent his becoming immune to the tablets. This meant that for Dean, the number of times that his mate was in heat and unavailable increased to twice a year.

He hated it. To hear his mate groaning and calling for him strained every fibre in his already weakened resistance. Alphas did not cry, but Dean would retreat and lock himself in his room at these times, and emerge looking decidedly the worse for wear.  
   
Castiel’s last unsuppressed heat had finished three days ago, but at the breakfast table Dean could still scent the last remnants of it, and it made him growl involuntarily. The omega smiled coquettishly across the table at him.  
   
“Not helping, Cas!” the alpha rumbled. “I’m minded to jump you right here and now, my love!”  
   
“I am sure the table could stand the weight”, Castiel smiled back. “Even with all those pies you cannot live without.”  
   
Dean’s hand moved instinctively to the small but persistent pudge above his cock, and then groaned when he saw Castiel watching him. Fortunately the omega took pity on him.  
   
“What is in the news?” he asked.  
   
“Parliament has finally abolished the slave trade”, Dean said, glad to peruse the paper and take his mind away from the gutter for a moment.  
   
Castiel nodded.  
   
“Lord Zachariah will not be pleased”, he observed. “Unlike us, he still uses slaves on his plantations.”  
   
“Serves him right”, Dean said unsympathetically. “Oh, and there is one of those new-fangled railway things opening up in Wales, near Swansea. Horse-drawn carriages along a railway track, apparently.”  
   
“Soon they will be using those steam locomotives to haul carriages”, Castiel said. “You are certain we have no slaves on our plantations, Dean?”  
   
Dean looked him straight in the eye.  
   
“The only slave on the Winchester Estate”, he said firmly, “is me where you are concerned, Cas.”  
   
The omega blushed. Dean was almost surprised at himself for managing to say the right thing for once. Then Castiel finished his last piece of bacon and leaned across the table.  
   
“Just for that”, he growled, “how about going back to our room for dessert?”  
   
Dean definitely did not sprint. But he may have walked exceptionally fast. And fallen over the carpet in his eagerness.  
   
+~+~+  
   
September 1807  
   
It was, when all was said and done, just another birthday. So there was no reason at all for Castiel to feel bad that this particular birthday was his first starting with a number more than two.  
   
But he did.  
   
“I do not want a celebration”, he told his mate firmly one morning early in September. “No ball, no party, nothing to mark the day at all, Dean. I just want to celebrate it quietly, the two of us.”  
   
“Can we not celebrate it noisily?” Dean asked cheekily. “I love the noises you make…. oof!”  
   
A bread roll unerringly found its mark. The omega had a freakishly good aim at times.  
   
“All right”, the alpha promised. “I faithfully do promise that there will be no major birthday celebrations to mark you turning twenty-nine and three hundred and sixty-five days old this year!”  
   
Castiel looked at him suspiciously.  
   
“No large-scale minor events either”, he insisted.  
   
“I promise”, Dean said.   
   
The omega was still suspicious. His mate had given way far too easily. It was very unlike him.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Dean did give Castiel a wonderful present on the big day – well, a second wonderful present once they were out of the bedroom, that was. He asked if his mate would mind being blindfolded for a short trip to see it, and Castiel agreed, wondering what it was.   
   
Dean guided him out the back of the house and through to a little-used part of the copious gardens. Although it was nearly autumn, the garden was still alive with flowers and buzzing insects, and Castiel breathed in the heady aroma. He could make out the definite sound of bees, his favourite insects, as Dean undid the blindfold.  
   
A short and somewhat scruffy looking omega was standing before them, dressed in what seemed like far too many clothes. Castiel blinked confusedly.  
   
“This is Mr. Theobald Moor, my newest employee”, Dean beamed. “The Pemberley Beekeeper.”  
   
Castiel’s eyes lit up. He looked hopefully at his mate, who nodded.  
   
“Once you are kitted up, you and he can go and look over the hives”, he said. “I shall be keeping a safe distance!”  
   
+~+~+  
   
Dean still got stung, though, Twice. Castiel, of course, did not get stung at all.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Despite his mate’s assurances, Castiel remained on edge all day, silently dreading that Dean would do something or other to mark his birthday. But the day passed uneventfully; Sam and Gabriel brought Samandriel over and brought him a set of books he had wanted, and they all chatted whilst he played with his cousin. After the visitors had gone, Dean said he was tired and went up to bed a little earlier than usual, whilst Castiel opted to finish his book before joining him. He opened the door to their room – and froze.   
   
Dean was lying naked in their bed. Nothing unusual about that – except there was a large iced cake next to the bed, white with a decorative blue bow, from which a slice had been cut. That slice was on a place balanced with a fork on the alpha’s broad chest. Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at his mate, who sighed in a put-upon way.  
   
“Dean…” he began.  
   
“What?” the alpha said innocently. “Can I not mark our country’s magnificent victory over the Danes at Copenhagen earlier this month, with my wonderful mate?”  
   
Castiel noticed a tiny toy ship on the cake. Very tiny. It was dwarfed by a large number of candles, and the omega suspected there were between twenty-nine and thirty-one of them.  
   
“You are insufferable!” he laughed. “But I love you, despite it all.”  
   
Dean slowly pulled back the covers, and Castiel saw that there was a second blue bow. Tied around….. something else.  
   
“And I think I am going to enjoy that present as well!” the omega grinned.  
   
+~+~+  
   
May 1808  
   
It was a nervy time at Pemberley. Dean’s sister was pregnant again, and her doctors were worried about her.   
   
“There is good news from Kent, though”, Castiel said as he read the morning mail. “Inias had had another son, an alpha this time. Crowley wishes to name him Paul, after the saint.”  
   
“I am surprised he did not name him after himself, being an alpha”, Dean observed. “Does not the name mean ‘hardy warrior’ or some such thing?”  
   
“The Irish version does”, Castiel said. “The English one means ‘wood of crows’, which bearing in mind that time he tried to sing….”  
   
Dean winced at the memory. He had grown to like Mr. Collins after their first few meetings, but the man’s many talents did not extend to hitting anywhere near the right note. Ever.  
   
“At least I have my angel of Thursday”, he smiled.   
   
“And I have my leader of ten men, or man from the little valley”, Castiel smiled back, opening another letter. “Oh. This one is from Gabe?”  
   
“How are he and the moose enjoying Scotland?” Dean asked.  
   
Castiel’s eyes glinted with mischief behind the sheets of paper.  
   
“Planning to stay here permanently…. no likelihood of returning to England ever…. weather bearable…”  
   
Dean stared at him, distraught.  
   
“Sammy is leaving Lynton?” he said, clearly shocked at the news. “He never said!”  
   
Castiel looked up in mock confusion.  
   
“Oh sorry”, he said in what was clearly fake contrition. “I meant Sam’s sister, Mrs. Ruby Walker. Her husband has inherited that Highland estate he was in line for, and the two of them are quitting Derbyshire for Sutherland.”  
   
Dean scowled at him.  
   
“You did that deliberately!” he snapped.   
   
Castiel’s look of innocence was some way beyond believable, and even he had to smile at Dean’s face eventually.  
   
“I do not suppose we would be lucky enough for them to take her sister with them?” he said hopefully. Margaret Bingley had herself passed thirty that year, and despite a string of potential suitors, remained at Lynton and unmarried. And although she never said anything, she clearly still resented that she had ‘lost’ Dean to Castiel. Which was frankly ridiculous, as Dean had loathed her from the start.  
   
“You were not overly fond of me at first”, his mate reminded him, doing that horrible mind-reading thing of his. “Not handsome enough to tempt me, I seem to recall you said.”  
   
Dean blushed.  
   
“I was a fool”, he said firmly. “And I deserved that first rejection of yours, every minute of it, and all the suffering that came after. I am only thankful that you came to accept me in the end.”  
   
Castiel stood up and walked over to the door, pausing to look meaningfully at his mate.  
   
“Oh Dean”, he said in a low voice, “I will always accept you. In the end.”  
   
It took the alpha far too long to piece together the double-meaning behind those words, but he still managed to catch his mate up by the bedroom door.  
   
+~+~+  
   
August 1808  
   
It never rains but it pours.  
   
That was what Castiel was thinking as he stared through the great bay window at the leaden summer skies, determinedly trying to recreate the Great Flood. It had been raining almost continuously for the past week, and the weather matched the general mood. For Dean’s sister had given birth to a stillborn son last week, and had come close to losing her own life in the process.  
   
And to prove that it was intent on pouring, trouble had broken from another direction yesterday; at least that was when they had been informed of yet another family disaster. Or at least, in the eyes of some people.  
   
“Thirteen pages!” Dean moaned, scanning the huge sheaf of paper in front of him. “When my aunt wishes to say something, she really says it. She is furious!”  
   
“He is not even technically her blood”, Castiel said, a little reprovingly. He did not like how exhausted his husband looked, first from his sister’s troubles and now from his cousin’s. “And Adam is an attractive young man, and nearly thirty.”  
   
“A venerable age”, Dean quipped.  
   
His mate shot him a dirty look.  
   
“It is just a pity he got caught out”, he said. “He wants to marry her, apparently, but even though her father was ennobled, the Fitzwilliams will find it hard to accept marrying into trade.”  
   
Dean reddened slightly. He had had the same attitude once towards Castiel’s Aunt Ellen and Uncle Robert, before meeting them and discovering that they were really good people.  
   
“That is not the worst of it”, Dean sighed. “Apparently my aunt has somehow found out that I am to be in London next month.”  
   
“And?” Castiel prompted.  
   
“She wishes to come and see me. At Winchester House!”  
   
Castiel was surprised. Letters apart, there had been no contact between Medlington and Pemberley since his and Dean’s marriage.   
   
“You should allow a visit”, he urged. “After all, you sent her that ruby. Perhaps this is a further move to make things normal between you both.”  
   
Dean frowned.  
   
“I am quite happy with no contact, and two hundred miles between us”, he said.  
   
Castiel swatted at him.

“Fine!” Dean groused. “I shall see her.”

His mate smiled at him.

“Do I get a reward for my forbearance?” Dean asked hopefully.

+~+~+

He did.


	7. The Rescuers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wickham ends up a prisoner of war, and Jo Harvelle decided to go off and do missionary work, much to her parents' alarm. Castiel rescues a fellow omega in distress by playing on Dean's 'weakness'.

January 1809  
   
It was the day after Dean’s thirty-sixth birthday. The alpha yawned as he blearily opened his eyes, and looked down on the impossible bedhead of his glorious mate.  
   
His. Sometimes he really couldn’t believe that this wonderful man was his.  
   
There were two knocks at the door, and Dean smiled. The staff knew better than to come in at this time of morning, and two knocks meant Cas’ regular and much-needed infusion of caffeine had arrived. Kissing his mate lightly on the hair, Dean eased away from him, pulling on a dressing-gown before crossing to collect his mate’s coffee.  
   
There was a letter on the tray with the coffee and biscuits, for Castiel. The omega read it as he sighed into his coffee, leaning back into his mate’s embrace.  
   
“Not bad news, I hope?” the alpha asked.  
   
“Adam’s brother Edward writes about the escape from Corunna”, Castiel said. “Apparently Wickham was one of the soldiers who was defending against the final French attack.”  
   
“I would wager Mr. Wickham was defending only his own interests!” Dean said acidly, curling up his lip at the mention of the bane of his existence. “I wonder if Balthazar knows as yet?”  
   
The alpha felt like adding that this was unlikely, as they had not heard any partying from Hertfordshire, where Balthazar had temporarily returned home. Wickham’s regiment had been based at nearby Meryton before heading off for the ill-starred campaign against the French in the Iberian Peninsula, much to Mrs. Bennet's pleasure (at least it had spared Dean a visit, for which he was supremely grateful). The Spanish, ever eager to put one over on their Portuguese neighbours, had allowed some tens of thousands of French troops to march across their lands, and had then been more than a little surprised when they turned on their hosts. Even down Iberia way, it seemed there was one born every minute.   
   
The thought of Wickham having to work his way back through that hot country was almost as pleasurable as his lying full of bullets just outside Corunna. Almost.  
   
“Stop it, Dean”, Castiel said reprovingly. “That is a most uncharitable thought.”  
   
“You were not even looking at me!” Dean said, surprised.  
   
Castiel nuzzled back into him.  
   
“I could feel your excitement”, he whispered.  
   
The alpha went impossibly red.

“Bad omega!” he hissed.

Castiel smirked.  
   
+~+~+  
   
April 1809  
   
Castiel may have had cause to reprove his husband’s thoughts about his brother, but he had privately had a sneaking suspicion that they were all too accurate. Once the roads were in a better state, he took the advantage of his mate’s springtime trip to London to call in at his mother’s house. Dean, somewhat opportunely Castiel suspected, said that he could not stop as he had to travel onto Newmarket in Suffolk where a friend of his, a Mr. Wilson, had entered his horse (in which Dean had a share) in a new race, the 2,000 Guineas. Only when Castiel looked pointedly at him did he promise to spend a night at Longbourn when he returned to pick his mate up in a week’s time.  
   
Balthazar was not at all down at the lack of news as regarded his wayward mate, although Castiel was not sure whether this was just over-optimism on his part or (more likely) hope that something had indeed befallen Wickham. Theirs had been basically a forced union, and under the terms of which Dean had paid off Wickham’s debts, the beta had been told he had to stay married for ten years, or it was the debtor’s prison for him.  
   
“A small group was picked up by a frigate further along the Galician coast”, Mrs. Bennet said, “but dear Wickham was not amongst them. However, some men have made it to Portugal, and we have hopes he may be heading there.”  
   
Michael looked up briefly from his book, and Castiel was sure he was thinking ‘poor Portugal!’. He suppressed a smile.  
   
“Our wonderful Mr. Wellesley is headed to Portugal”, Mrs. Bennet continued. “I am sure he will give that French upstart What For. And would you believe it, Monseigneur Collins is visiting Lucas Lodge!”  
   
Castiel looked at his mother in confusion.  
   
“Why should Inias not visit his home?” he asked.  
   
“He travelled alone, all the way from Kent!” she said with a shudder. “Highly improper, in this day and age. Not even a servant with him!”  
   
“He is married to a Church of England vicar”, Castiel pointed out reasonably. “Perhaps Mr. Collins could not spare the time away from his duties?”  
   
“I think there may have been problems with Lord Zachariah again”, Balthazar said with a half-smile. “Gossip around the village is that he has contracted some sort of disease after his latest trip to the West Indies.”  
   
“Well, I never listen to gossip!” Mrs. Bennet declared roundly.  
   
Castiel and Michael exchanged pointed glances, and both were clearly making an effort not to laugh. Balthazar seemed to be suffering a coughing fit.  
   
+~+~+

June 1809

It was odd, Castiel sometimes thought, that he and Dean had so little business with the actual village of Pemberley. True, clever landscaping by the people who had built the house had hidden the village from the house behind a low bank, and Pemberley, and the nearby twin village of Pemberton, both lay on the road that skirted the west side of the estate, so the two rarely went through either place. Thus Castiel was surprised when someone from the village actually called unannounced at the house that day. And when he found out the reason for the call, he was furious.

“I don't know where to turn to”, the visitor said helplessly. “My father wishes to sell me to a friend of his, but the man already has a mate, and he wishes to use me for.... well, you know.”

The visitor in question was a young omega, barely fifteen years of age, scruffy and decidedly underfed. Castiel sympathized, of course, but he knew as well as anyone the laws on omegas. The slave trade might have been abolished, but an omega was still the property of their father until such time as he wanted to sell them to the highest bidder. He, Castiel, had been incredibly lucky to have Dean. He knew from reading the paper than other omegas were often far less fortunate.

Coming between an alpha and his property was risky, even for someone as socially elevated as Laird Castiel Winchester. However, he also knew how to achieve certain things, even if he had to use somewhat unorthodox methods to secure them....

+~+~+

Dean sank back onto their bed, panting heavily. He knew he was not as young as he had been, but Heavens to Betsy, his mate had gone all out that night! Dean might have to stay in bed all the following day to recover!

The prospect was not that off-putting. 

Castiel loomed above him and looked at him inquiringly. Dean sighed. Business first.

“All right”, he said with a smile. “I went and saw Jake's father, a Mr. Talley, and told him my mate wanted the boy to train as a footman at our London house. It turned out that he was in fact a stepfather, and never liked the boy. I do not think he wanted to sell him to me, but I made it quite clear that you were set on him, and that I would take it very badly if he said no.”

“It is still wrong that you had to pay money for another human being”, Castiel said with a frown, “but at least Jake is safe now.”

“And asking me just before we did that was damnably unfair!” Dean groused. “You know I can never say no to you at times like that!”

Castiel chuckled.

“I was counting on it”, he smirked. “But obviously it is only fair that I try to make amends.”

Dean suddenly realized where the omega was heading whilst they were talking, and let out a small whimper. Again? Hell, he was only a mortal man!

+~+~+  
   
August 1809  
   
It was a long, gloriously warm summer, a gentle breeze preventing it from feeling too hot. Castiel smiled as he sat down on one of the outside chairs, having just come back from his bees.  
   
“There is news from Spain”, Dean said.  
   
The omega sat up at once.  
   
“What is it?” he asked.  
   
“Wellington has won a great victory at a place called Talavera”, the alpha said. “Perhaps more importantly for us, he obtained the release of a small group of British soldiers being held captive by the French. One of them was a certain Mr. Martin Wickham.”  
   
Castiel did not know whether to be relieved or sad at the news. His mate watched him cautiously, but any further discussion on the matter was prevented by the loud arrival of both Mr. and Mrs. Singer, apparently in the midst of a major argument.  
   
“Is something wrong?” Castiel interrupted. He knew from experience that, although the couple loved each other dearly, their few arguments could go on for hours if unchecked.  
   
“Jo wants to go out and do missionary work!” Ellen almost spat out. “And this great lummocks wants to let her!”  
   
“Now, love”, Bobby said soothingly. “I didn’t say we should just say yes. But you know our girl; if we tell her a flat no, she’ll probably go anyway.”  
   
Castiel could see just how much that comment rankled with his aunt, the more so because it was all too true.  
   
“Perhaps she could be persuaded to consider working for one of those missionary societies?” he suggested tentatively. “Just to start with, at least.”  
   
Ellen turned to him, and Castiel knew she was about to let rip again. Fortunately his mate came to his rescue.  
   
“I think what my beloved means is that you could ask her to spend six months or a year working for a society in England”, he cut in smoothly. “That way, she could see if it was something she really wanted to do before sailing off somewhere to preach to the heathens? I have a few contacts that may be useful.”  
   
Ellen Singer glared at her husband.  
   
“Now why couldn’t you think of that?” she demanded tartly.  
   
Bobby did not answer, but instead reached for a drink. Castiel bit back a smile.  
   
+~+~+  
   
November 1809  
   
Dean’s eyebrows shot up.  
   
“Absolutely no way!” he said firmly. “Over my dead body!”  
   
Castiel had just received a letter from his mother, informing him that Wickham had returned to England and been reunited with his mate, and was spending a few days in Hertfordshire before joining his regiment in Newcastle once more. She had suggested that, as they would be passing not far from Pemberley, the reunited couple might call in to see them both.  
   
Castiel had been hard put not to laugh at the sheer horror this had engendered from his mate. The problem was that the house  was, technically, open to the public, so there was nothing to stop the unwelcome duo from coming as tourists.   
   
“I shall be out when they come”, Dean said firmly.  
   
“I didn’t mention a date”, Castiel said, hiding a smile.  
   
“I shall still be out”, Dean insisted. “With my shotgun! Trained on the gatehouse!”  
   
“At least it’s not like poor Mrs. Tottenham”, Castiel reminded him. A hoaxer, thus far undiscovered, had perpetrated a prank a few days prior of sending countless workmen, officials and even some nobility to the house of an unsuspecting woman in Berners Street in the capital, and it was still the talk of the country.  
   
“Quality, not quantity”, Dean said, a little primly. “I would rather have all that crowd if it spared me a visit from that loathsome Wickham!”  
   
+~+~+  
   
In the end, Dean was spared a visit from his old adversary, as Castiel agreed to meet with him and his brother in Derby rather than at the house. But the omega made it patently clear that he fully expected his mate to make it up to him over the week following.  
   
Dean did.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Castiel smiled as he looked at the Lynton Christmas area, the centre pole topped off by a giant moose. Sam and Gabriel had taken to having the main presents they brought for each other and the children wrapped and placed on display behind a mock white fence, where no-one was allowed to touch them until the great day, now just three days away.   
   
Gabriel came up behind him, unusually hesitant for once. Castiel knew full well why.  
   
“Number six”, the omega said softly. “You really are securing the line, aren’t you?”  
   
The shorter Bennet smiled at his younger sibling.  
   
“You are all right with this?” he asked nervously. “The moose hasn’t told Dean yet.”  
   
“Dean will be fine”, Castiel said firmly. “He’s finding our three enough of a handful as it is, and that’s with a bevy of nursemaids and other attendants on hand twenty-four hours a day. Scaden got into yet another fight with one of the estate boys the other day, and it was hilarious; he didn’t know whether to scold him or be proud!”  
   
“And you?” Gabriel asked gently. “How are you feeling?”  
   
“The heat tablets work well enough”, Castiel said, “though I still shut myself away just in case. Mainly because I am afraid what Dean will do to anyone who comes too near me, though!”  
   
“This will definitely be our last”, Gabriel said. “I suppose I am hoping for a girl to balance things out, but I would welcome anything, especially after…..”  
   
Castiel placed a finger on his brother’s lips, stopping his flow.  
   
“The past is another country, brother”, he said firmly. “It is behind us, and we cannot change it. Look at all we have now, and let us be thankful for all our blessings.”  
   
Gabriel smiled.  
   
“Yes”, he agreed. “Let’s.”


	8. Gains And Losses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A birth, a death, and a departure fill the lives of the occupants of Lynton and Pemberley.

January 1810  
   
“I still can’t believe she actually made us put in writing!”  
   
Uncle Bobby’s incredulous look made his nephew laugh, then wince slightly. It was the day after Dean’s thirty-seventh birthday, and the fact that the alpha only had three years until a certain milepost had made him determined to drive home (figuratively as well as actually) that he was still capable of being a real man.   
   
The fact that said alpha was now sleeping it off upstairs in a state of post-coital bliss was, like the pains in Castiel’s backside, something that a good omega would never have mentioned. Of course, the same could not be said for his uncle.  
   
“Wore him out, did you?” he teased. “Good boy!”  
   
“Actually I was quite bad”, Castiel said mischievously. “Especially when….”  
   
His uncle shot him a warning look.   
   
“My own flesh and blood should trust my word”, the older man groused, retreating to the relatively safer ground of his wayward daughter. “I’m still not happy about her sailing off to Heaven knows where, but if that’s what she wants after working for this group, so be it.”  
   
“And you did not, of course, suggest to the group that they make sure she sees all aspects of the work in her time with them?” Castiel suggested slyly. “Especially the less pleasant ones?”  
   
“Of course not!” his uncle protested.  
   
Castiel raised an eyebrow at him.  
   
“All right”, he said. “But she’ll thank me later!”  
   
“As Dean will me”, Castiel smiled. “Once he has recovered….”  
   
“Nephew!”  
   
+~+~+  
   
Bobby had had to leave by the time Dean made it down for lunch, and the alpha was sorry to have missed him. Though he shot his mate an evil glare as he carefully sat down.  
   
“A walking-stick?” he said, looking searchingly at his mate. “Really?”  
   
“For all those walks on the Peaks”, Castiel said airily. “No reflection at all of your being close to a certain important milepost in your life…..”  
   
Dean glared suspiciously as two of the maids set out the plates on the table between them. Both were perilously close to smirking, and both left quite quickly when they were done. He was sure he heard a stifled laugh or two from outside the door.  
   
“You will pay for that later”, he muttered, reaching rather too quickly for the potatoes and then wincing in pain. He ladled three large ones onto his plate before having to stifle a yawn.  
   
“Are you sure you will be up to it?” Castiel asked cheekily. “We do not want to put on much of a strain on your poor old frame.”  
   
Dean reached across to grab Castiel’s hand over the potato dish.  
   
“Forget tonight!” he said sharply. “Right after dinner!”  
   
Castiel beamed at him.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Dean may have needed another nap afterwards, but his thirty-seventh birthday was certainly one to remember.  
   
+~+~+  
   
June 1810  
   
Dean and Sam were alone in one of the smaller rooms at Lynton, both trying to ignore the screams coming from the other room. Gabriel had gone into labour at the start of the appointed day for the birth, the twenty-first, but there had been problems. Mrs. Fulmer, the recently-appointed housekeeper, was by the Grace of God sister to a midwife, and had some skills in these matters, and Sam had dispatched for Doctor Alton to come as soon as possible.  
   
“I knew we should never had had another child”, Sam said bitterly, looking out of the small bay window. Past his huge frame, Dean could see his three eldest sons playing outside, careless of the drama unfolding with their potential younger brother. He came up and placed a hand on the other alpha’s shoulder.   
   
“He wanted this as much as you, Sammy”, he said softly. “And he has Cas with him, to help him through. He and Mrs. F. can surely…..”  
   
They were interrupted by the glorious sound of a pair of new-born lungs screaming their disapproval of the world at full volume. Sam’s face shone for a moment, then fell as he considered his mate. Fortunately Cas chose that moment to come through into the room.  
   
“Both doing fine”, he said reassuringly. “Congratulations, Sam. It’s another alpha.”  
   
Sam looked like he was going to burst into tears, and Dean quickly handed him his handkerchief.  
   
“You had better go in now”, Castiel said. “You’ll want to be the first alpha to hold your new son, of course.”  
   
Sam nodded, apparently dumbstruck, and hurried into the other room. Castiel walked into his mate’s embrace and Dean hugged him close, despite his bloodied state.  
   
“It was very close there”, he admitted once Sam had shut the door. “If it hadn’t been for Mrs. Fulmer, one or other – possibly even both – might not have made it.”  
   
Dean shuddered at the thought.  
   
“Six boys is more than enough for them”, he said firmly. “They won’t want to risk any more, surely.”  
   
“Gabe might, but I doubt Sam would let him”, Cas said, yawning. “I am tired, Dean. I think that I shall ask the servants if I can lie down in one of the bedrooms for a while.”  
   
“I shall explain to Gabriel when he asks for you”, Dean promised. “I love you, Cas.”  
   
The omega smiled at him, and left the room.  
   
+~+~+  
   
July 1810  
   
“At least the news from Uncle Bobby is mostly good”, Castiel said over breakfast that morning. “Asher has graduated university, and is set to join some mechanical firm up in Manchester come September.”  
   
“Machines, machines, machines!” Dean grumbled, biting viciously into his bacon. “One day they’ll find a machine that will replace humans, and then we will all be done for!”  
   
Castiel eyed him coquettishly.  
   
“I doubt they could invent a machine that could do what you did last night”, he said in a low voice. “Though if there is, I would like to purchase one!”  
   
Dean went impossibly red, and Castiel laughed.  
   
“What other news is there?” the omega asked, taking pity on his alpha.  
   
“The news from the Continent is as bad as ever”, Dean said, his face only slowly returning to normal. “And some idiot in the Times is spouting off as to how Trafalgar was really an unimportant battle in the greater scheme of things! Tommy-rot! If it hadn’t been for Nelson, we’d all be speaking French by now!”  
   
Castiel nodded. He kept abreast of the news himself, which he knew some more conservative members of their staff found surprising for an omega, and he knew full well that the French were capable of raising a much more powerful navy that Great Britain ever could. Only the fear inspired by victories at Trafalgar – where a larger Franco-Spanish forces had been obliterated for not a single British ship lost - had thus far led them to concentrate their efforts, so far mostly successfully, on land.  
   
“The Russians are bottled up in the Baltic, and good old Wellington keeps darting out of Portugal to beat a few French skulls every now and then”, Dean said, “but it’s the Royal Navy that’s keeping us safe. For now, at least.”  
   
Castiel nodded. Because he had been classified as a prisoner of war, Metatron Wickham had been excused a year’s service since his return last year, but he would soon be being packed off to Portugal once more. The omega suspected that his brother would bear the loss of his mate quite well.  
   
+~+~+  
   
The letter arrived later that same day, and was opened by Dean. Castiel was out visiting some of the tenants, so did not immediately miss his mate, but the moment he returned to the house, he knew something was wrong. He hurried to their room and found it empty, which was a worrying sign as well.  
   
He eventually found Dean in his sister’s room. The alpha had clearly been crying, and Castiel uttered a silent prayer of thanks that their servants had been smart enough to leave him well alone. Dean looked at him mournfully, and Castiel walked across and sat on the bed alongside him, pulling him onto a hug.  
   
It was some time before Dean spoke.  
   
“Anna lost the baby.”  
   
Castiel sighed unhappily. He had so hoped that his dear sister would be fortunate this time round, but it seemed that the Fates were not smiling on her. Little Anael had spent a week with them a couple of months back, and the child had clearly had her Uncle Dean wrapped around her little finger. Her Uncle Castiel, too.  
   
“It’s so unfair!” Dean protested. “She’s such a good mother to that girl. Why cannot she have any more to look after?”  
   
Castiel said nothing, suspecting there were few words that could comfort his mate. After his mate, Dean loved his sister more than anyone in the world, and her pain was his pain. He pulled him closer and sighed.  
   
+~+~+  
   
October 1810  
   
Castiel placed a reassuring hand over his aunt’s. She smiled at him.  
   
“At least it is only Germany”, the omega offered. “They could have sent her anywhere around the world, but probably wanted to start her off gently.”  
   
Ellen Singer’s daughter had got her wish, and after nine weeks of training, she was now a fully-fledged missionary. Castiel privately thought that the Church of England should be grateful that all that energy was directed somewhere other than the homeland. His aunt nodded.  
   
“So what news from here?” she asked. She and her husband had recently started to rent a new house in the neighbouring county of Lancashire, partly because Asher was at the works there, and were planning to settle there when Bobby retired.  
   
“Gabriel’s new son was christened last week”, Castiel told her. “Isaac, they called him, after Mrs. Fulmer’s late husband; she was the one who helped him into the world and kept Gabriel in it. The poor boy must have contracted every ailment known to childhood in his first three months, but at last he was well enough.”  
   
“That is good”, his aunt smiled.  
   
“And Scaden got into yet another fight”, Castiel sighed. “One of the local boys down in Lambton called him something rude whilst he was visiting, and the two started hitting each other.”  
   
“Did he win?” Ellen asked. Castiel glared at her.  
   
“That is beside the point”, he said archly, “but yes. Poor Dean is hopeless when it comes to discipline, though he says that does not matter as all our sons are terrified of me. It just makes me the bad parent in all this.”  
   
“Someone always has to be”, his aunt agreed. “Bobby and I usually take turns, though, when it comes to Jo.”  
   
“And Asher?” Castiel asked. His aunt laughed.  
   
“He is usually so far out of it with those infernal machines of his that I doubt he even notices us!” she smiled. “Have you heard the news from London?”  
   
Castiel nodded. After years of decline, it had finally been made official that King George III, much loved despite his losing the American colonies years back, had gone irrevocably insane. Which meant a regency under his much-hated eldest son of the same name.  
   
“The Prince of Whales, with an ‘h’!” Ellen said scornfully. “Thank Cromwell that kings do not have any real power any more, even if those numb-skulls in parliament are little better.”  
   
“I really hope that one day parliament may be a better representation of the people of this country”, Castiel mused. “Even omegas may get the vote one day!”  
   
“Not whilst this infernal war drags on”, Ellen said. “People don’t want to risk change whilst the French are rampaging across the Continent, and the government plays on that. So did you enjoy your birthday last month?”  
   
Castiel smiled in reminiscence.  
   
“I did”, he said. “So did Dean!”  
   
His aunt glared at him.


	9. Clubs, Fists and Bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel joins a club, two fights break out, and someone gets shot.

February 1811  
   
Although he smiled when his mate talked about their ‘profound bond’ which enabled them to understand each other so well, the master of Pemberley would have admitted (under severe duress) that he was more than fluent in Cas-ese. So the conversation they had at breakfast that morning, which seemed quite innocuous at first, nonetheless set alarm bells ringing.  
   
“Dean, have we any properties in Scotland?”  
   
The alpha knew at once exactly where his omega was heading with that question.  
   
“None as such”, he said. “I used to rent a shooting-lodge up there before we met, but you said you did not like it, so I sold it to someone else.”  
   
Castiel nodded.  
   
“The Times says that Prince George is now officially the Regent”, he observed.  
   
Dean smiled.  
   
“You were concerned over the Highland Clearances”, he said knowingly. “Do not worry, beloved. I am no Duke of Sutherland, throwing the good people of Scotland out of their houses in the name of ‘improvements’.”  
   
His mate smiled back at him.  
   
“I am sure you could never be”, he said.  
   
+~+~+  
   
April 1811  
   
When Dean arrived home to be told that his son had been involved in another fight, he sighed heavily. Scaden was by and large a good boy, but prone to outbursts of violence when provoked, especially in defence of his brothers. He appreciated that Castiel thought it important for their sons to mix with other children of different social levels, but sometimes he wished that they could mix a little less violently.  
   
When he opened his study door, however, he got a surprise.   
   
“Diniel?” he said in shock. “You?”  
   
The young omega hung his head, and stared into the fire. Dean came and sat down in front of him, and waited.  
   
“Papa said I should see you”, the omega said quietly. “Scay and I went into Lambton to do some shopping today, and one of the boys in the bakery said something rude about papa.”  
   
“You do know that your papa disapproves of violence”, Dean said gently. “Come, what was it that was said?”  
   
The omega seemed to almost sneer.  
   
“Phillips, one of the local alphas”, he said sharply. “He said that papa couldn’t breed any more sons because you were sterile. I did not understand the word, but I knew it was an insult.”  
   
Dean tried to keep his composure, though he gripped the arm of the chair very tightly.  
   
“And who is this Master Phillips?” he asked coldly.  
   
“The butcher’s son”, Diniel said. “Father, am I in trouble?”  
   
“Not this time”, Dean said, trying to keep his voice steady. “But you should report any such utterances straight to me in future, Dino. I am an adult, after all, and I can deal with them in a calm and responsible manner.”  
   
“As you wish, Father.”  
   
+~+~+  
   
Castiel looked at the breakfast table in surprise.  
   
“Sausages again?” he asked.  
   
“Apparently the butcher over-ordered, so he let us have them for nothing”, Dean said airily.  
   
His mate looked hard at him. Dean lasted less than thirty seconds before he cracked.  
   
“All right”, he admitted. “I may have gone down there after Diniel’s little scrap and made my feelings clear about what his son said. Damnation, Cas, he insulted you!”  
   
“My knight in shining armour”, Castiel smiled. “And extra sausages to boot. I shall have to think of a way to show my gratitude.”  
   
It took Dean slightly less than thirty seconds to get that. Although he later learnt that at his age, strenuous activity just after food was increasingly unwise.

But it was still definitely worth it!  
   
+~+~+  
   
June 1811  
   
“This country is filling up too fast”, Dean said as he and his mate sat in his study after lunch. The alpha had been ill for a few days, and today had been the first day he had really felt like eating very much. Possibly a little too much.  
   
“It’s not the only thing!” Castiel teased, eying his mate’s stomach.  
   
“Hey!” Dean tried to breathe in, but it was a lost cause. “I think ten million people is a lot. And too many of them today are living in these towns and cities of ours. England is changing, and I do not like the direction in which she is heading.”  
   
“We are at war”, Castiel reminded him, even though as he said it, it seemed to both of them like almost another world. “What does the paper say about that?”  
   
“There is speculation that the Russians may be about to turn on the French”, Dean said. “Their tsar or whatever is resentful at the French being so powerful, and may think that with them so overstretched dealing with Wellington at the other end of the Continent, the ending of their five-year treaty soon may be a chance to grab some of the lands he thinks are rightfully his.”  
   
“Every leader thinks someone else’s lands are rightfully his”, Castiel said. “Talking of the war, I had a letter from home today as well.”  
   
Dean looked confused at the apparent logic jump. His mate smiled.  
   
“Mother writes that Wickham has caught some disease or other, and is being brought home on the next available ship”, Castiel said.  
   
“Poor disease!” Dean muttered.  
   
Castiel chuckled.  
   
“It may not be for long”, he said. “Perhaps if the Russian tsar obliges us with an invasion, the French will have to withdraw troops from Spain, which would mean we need every soldier back there to take advantage.”  
   
“One can but hope”, Dean agreed.  
   
+~+~+  
   
November 1811  
   
Bobby Singer was not happy.  
   
“I cannot believe the country has gone so low!” he growled, as he, his wife and son sat in the Sun Room at Pemberley. “Attacking someone just because he is working towards the betterment of humanity.”  
   
The Singers had called in at Pemberley after Asher had been attacked coming out his workplace in Manchester the week before. It seemed that the ‘Luddites’ as they were known were becoming ever more daring, striking at not just modern machinery but the people who used them.  
   
“The damnable thing is that dear Ash was working on safety devices, to prevent the machines from seizing up so often”, Ellen said. “I agree that it is disgusting that some factory owners use small children to go in amidst moving machinery to sort things out, but these people should think before they act.”  
   
“I gave as good as I got”, Asher pouted.  
   
“Only because some of your friends chanced to come out whilst you were being attacked”, his father said sourly. “If they hadn’t, who knows how far these thugs would have gone.”  
   
“There is little public sympathy for them”, Castiel said. “With everyone’s minds on the war, that is.”  
   
“You do not support them, surely?” Bobby asked, shocked.  
   
“Not in their actions”, Castiel said, “and I know of course you would never do it, but some of these factory owners treat people little better than slaves. Once this war is over, the country would do well to address such things.”  
   
“Once the war is over, the rich will get back to enriching themselves”, Dean said, coming up behind his mate and wrapping the omega in an embrace. “Social responsibility costs money, beloved. And parliament will always look after itself first and the country second.”  
   
“Then it is time parliament was changed”, Castiel said firmly. “I am only one small omega, but the country will hear me roar for change!”  
   
“I heard you roar last night!” Dean teased.  
   
Castiel went impossibly red, and their guests all laughed.  
   
+~+~+  
   
February 1812  
   
It was the day after Valentine’s Day, which meant the perfect day for Castiel to broach a difficult subject with his mate. Especially as Dean did not emerge from their room until nearly lunch-time, and then with a seriously happy grin on his face. Castiel could have probably asked for his own estate at that point and got given it, but his aims were, in one sense at least, more modest.  
   
He waited until after lunch before starting. A full Dean meant a happy Dean, he well knew.  
   
“Beloved?” he said quietly.   
   
They were sat on the couch in the study, Castiel reading something that he was not even remotely engaged with whilst nestling into his mate’s larger form. Dean smiled, and reached forward to kiss his mate’s neck.  
   
“Yes, Cas”, he said with a smile.   
   
“I am thinking about joining a club.”  
   
Dean pulled him in even closer, and Castiel suppressed a smile.  
   
“Not that sort of club!” he said reprovingly. “Bad alpha!”  
   
“I like being bad around you”, Dean said, nibbling at his mate’s ear. “It's fun.”  
   
Castiel turned himself round to face his mate, and kissed him long and hard before continuing.  
   
“There is a new reform club being formed in London”, he said. “It is called a Hampden Club, after the famous member of parliament from the Civil War.”  
   
“Go on”, Dean said.  
   
“Its members are mostly what one would call middle class”, Castiel said, “but I would like to ask if I could be a member as well. I would not have to go to meetings unless they formed a branch near here, but I would like to provide them with funds from my allowance. If you would let me?”  
   
Dean smiled, and accepted another kiss before speaking.  
   
“Am I going to get you all over me every time you want something for this club?” he smirked. “Because if so….”  
   
Castiel glared at him. Dean chuckled.  
   
“It sounds fine”, he said cautiously. “Of course, you should take care they do not end up being too radical, and start breaking things like the Luddites, but I have no objection. It is your money as much as mine.”  
   
“I was just worried”, Castiel said, looking concerned, “that people may talk about you as a result. If I am a member of such a society, many will assume that my alpha would also be in support of it.”  
   
“I suppose I am”, Dean said consideringly. “Indeed, we had better put such people’s minds to rest as soon as possible, be they ever so last century. You must put my name forward for membership as well, Cas.”  
   
The omega smiled up at him.  
   
“Are you sure?” he asked tentatively. Dean pulled him closer.  
   
“Let me convince you”, he said huskily.  
   
And he did.  
   
+~+~+  
   
May 1812  
   
“Good Lord!”  
   
Castiel looked up from his book in surprise. His mate looked positively shocked.  
   
“What is it?” he asked, concernedly. Dean waved the Times at him.  
   
“The prime minister has been shot in the House of Commons!” Dean exclaimed.  
   
“By an M.P?” Cas asked, equally shocked.  
   
Dean read the article some more.  
   
“Apparently by some disgruntled merchant called Mr. Bellingham”, he said. “In the lobby, of all places! Honestly, we’re getting to be as bad as the French!”  
   
“Not that bad”, Castiel mused. “From all I have read, Monsieur Napoleon loves his creature comforts as much as any ruler, whilst our government at least keeps the Regent on a short leash.”  
   
Dean smiled at him. “Unlike you”, he teased.  
   
For Christmas, Dean had offered to spend a large sum totally refitting Castiel’s private rooms in Pemberley. The omega had hummed and hahed, but had eventually asked if the money could instead be used to alleviate the sufferings of the poor on the estate, as the war with France was still biting hard despite the lowered rents Dean had applied. The omega had actually seemed uncertain that Dean would agree to such a request, but in truth, it had only made the alpha love his mate even more.  
   
“I just wish something would happen in this damned war”, Dean said. “Preferably to upset the Little General’s best-laid plans, of course.”  
   
The following month, Dean was to get his wish.


	10. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Dean Winchester and Napoleon Bonaparte get frustrated. Scaden gets The Talk, Adam is concerned, and Lord Zachariah ends up in Bristol.

June 1812  
   
The one thing that was absolutely certain in this world was that Dean Winchester, alpha supreme and master in his own home, was most definitely not hiding.  
   
“Stop hiding”, Castiel said with a smile as his mate sat on their bed, pouting. “They are leaving today.”  
   
It was a tribute to how much Dean loved his mate that he had allowed Mrs. Bennet to come for a two-week visit, before paying for her to go on and spend a further two weeks sampling the delights of the spa at Harrogate in Yorkshire. Unfortunately she had brought Balthazar with her, Michael opting to remain behind in Hertfordshire. Probably enjoying some much welcome peace and quiet, Dean thought enviously.  
   
“Your brother is quite the flirt for a married omega”, Dean observed, reluctantly pulling on his clothes to face the day and the relatives outside.  
   
“Obviously his mate does not satisfy him the way mine does”, Castiel said in his low growl, causing Dean to look hopefully at him. “No, Dean, we do not have the time!”  
   
“I could be quick!” Dean said hopefully. Castiel snorted.  
   
“Perhaps once they are gone”, he said. “They have to leave before lunch if they are to connect with the coach at Sheffield.”  
   
“Such a pity”, Dean said flatly. The omega eyed him warningly.  
   
“Just for that, I may make you wait until…..”  
   
“I’m so looking forward to helping them enjoy all their remaining time here!” Dean said quickly, if with obvious insincerity. His mate eyed him again, but smiled.  
   
+~+~+  
   
The gods were clearly against Dean Winchester that day, because just as Mrs. Bennet and her son were finally rolling away down the drive after nearly half an hour of tearful goodbyes, Sam rode up on his horse, Dodge. Dean sighed. Life was so unfair at times.  
   
However, Sam had brought news.  
   
“It’s what we’ve been hoping for!” he beamed. “Napoleon has finally decided to have a bash at the Russians before he’s finished off the Spanish. He’s gone too far this time!”  
   
“Do not underestimate the little man”, Castiel said warningly. “Remember, both he and his country have been written off before, and he has lots of allies on the Continent who prefer rule by him to that of another foreigner.”  
   
“Sammy’s right”, Dean agreed, shifting behind a chair to mask the discomfort in his clothes. “It will take time, but this is the beginning of the end.”  
   
“It will make Wellington’s job easier”, Sam said. “The upstart would have to have withdrawn troops from Spain to have a big enough army to get all the way to Moscow. I wonder if he will make it?”  
   
“An odd time to try”, Castiel said. “We are not that far out from winter, which I know from my cousin is always worse in those parts.”  
   
“I saw your mother riding away”, Sam said conversationally, sitting himself down much to Dean’s displeasure. “I am sorry I missed them.”  
   
“Yes, we were just going upstairs to, ahem, talk about their departure”, Dean said, a trifle bitterly.  
   
His friend looked at him in confusion before he belatedly got it. He stood up in a hurry.  
   
“I have just remembered, I need to help Gabe with….. something”, he said, looking warily at his friend. Standing between an alpha and the omega he wished to mate with was somewhere between inadvisable and fatal, and the taller alpha had no wish to court danger, even from his friend. “Goodbye!”  
   
He all but ran from the room.  
   
“Well?” Castiel said.  
   
“Well what?” Dean growled.  
   
Castiel smirked at him, then bolted from the room. He knew Dean could catch him in seconds, but the thrill of the chase appealed to the alpha on a base level.  
   
Provided the stairs didn’t prove too much for him….  
   
+~+~+  
   
September 1812  
   
It was Castiel’s thirty-sixth birthday, and as usual in recent years he chose to celebrate with something for the people on the estate. This year it was a bag of cakes for each family, with a small crown on each one. Dean asked him why.  
   
“It is to do with King Pyrrhus”, Castiel explained. “He defeated the Romans several times, but his victories were always very costly, hence the term ‘pyrrhic victory’. Like the one the French won at Borodino recently.”  
   
“The Russians could still negotiate”, Dean reminded him. Castiel shook his head.  
   
“I have read a lot about the Russian mind-set”, he said. “Like Spain, the further an enemy advances, the more their supply lines become overstretched. Russia is far vaster than Iberia, and Napoleon’s losses cannot easily be replaced. Even if he takes Moscow, the Russians will never surrender.”  
   
“Whereas I surrendered my heart to you long ago”, Dean said with a smile. “My perfect omega.”  
   
“I am far from perfect”, Castiel said with a smile.  
   
“Really?” Dean said, looking surprised. “Then I had better spend tonight checking you over thoroughly!”  
   
Castiel swatted at him.  
   
+~+~+  
   
October 1812  
   
Promnesia, Cas called it. The feeling of having been here before.  
   
Dean was really wishing that he did not keep having so many ‘promnesic’ moments with his eldest son. Scaden hung his head, his blond locks obscuring his shamed face.  
   
“I am shocked and surprised”, he said gravely. “I know alphas will be alphas, but really, Scay? Your own flesh and blood?”  
   
His son and heir muttered something inaudible.  
   
“Speak up!” Dean said sharply.  
   
“They were making fun of me!” Scaden said defensively.  
   
“You attacked an omega!” Dean said angrily. “I know some people in society, presumably those who have just evolved out of caves, think that omegas are a type of property, but I had believed that your papa and I had raised you better than that.” He saw that his son was about to speak and hurried on. “No matter what the provocation, an alpha never attacks an omega, let alone his own brother. It is just not done!”  
   
“He teased me about my looking at one of the estate girls”, Scaden said sulkily. “Dino said I should get myself a nice omega instead. Father, what is all this about males and females?”  
   
Dean glanced at the clock, wishing fervently that it was near a mealtime so he could end the conversation on that pretence. No such luck.  
   
“Only I came to call on you and papa the other day, and there were strange noises coming from your room”, Scaden said, looking confused. “And the door was locked for some reason.”  
   
Dean was rapidly turning very red.  
   
“Son”, he said slowly and reluctantly, “I think it is time that you and I had The Talk….”  
   
+~+~+

Castiel smiled at his mate across the dining-table. Dean was still lost in thought.

“Your conversation with Scay went well?” the omega asked.

“As well as might be expected”, Dean said. “Somehow we went from his attacking his own brother to the birds and the bees. It was mortifying!”

He looked up just in time to see his mate smiling.

“What?” he asked testily.

“Only Scay asked me what the two of us were up to the other day, so I told him”, Castiel said with a smile. “In detail.”

Dean's eyes widened.

“He already knew?” he hissed.

“Apparently he was taking the opportunity to embarrass you”, Castiel said with a smirk. “Quite successfully, from the sound of it.”

Dean scowled. 

+~+~+  
   
November 1812  
   
“I see the Martians have taken Moscow”, Dean observed. 

His cousin nodded. Castiel chuckled.  
   
“Adam, you look somewhat distracted”, he said, taking pity on the younger man. “Is something wrong?”  
   
Dean’s cousin blinked several times before apparently regaining his focus.  
   
“I was just worried about something Mrs. Moseley said”, he said.  
   
“Take that pie and I’ll slice your fingers off?” Dean suggested.  
   
“That was you last week”, Castiel reminded him.  
   
“She baked me a pie”, Adam said.  
   
The married couple looked at him expectantly.  
   
“And?” Dean prompted.  
   
“She has never baked me anything before”, Adam said thoughtfully. “Yet when she gave it to me, she told me that the whole pie was mine. I just got the impression that there was more to her words that I was getting.”  
   
“More likely than not”, Dean muttered. “She and Mrs. Barnes are both psychic!”  
   
“That’s only because she always predicts you trying to take extra food from the larder”, his mate pointed out. “One does not need to be psychic to predict the inevitable!”  
   
Dean pouted.  
   
“I am thirty-three years old”, Adam said ruefully, “and it is long time that I settled down. Especially with my four elder brothers having only one son between them. Now he has inherited the title, Bill wants me to get married to anyone suitable, but I want to wait.”  
   
“Why?” Castiel asked, curiously.  
   
“I got the call yesterday”, he said. “My regiment is being shipped out to Spain, now that the French are overstretched at the other end of Europe. Lord Liverpool’s government thinks that a big push may get the French out of Spain once and for all, and if we can breach the Pyrenees and enter France, it may force Napoleon to quit.”  
   
“Not before time”, Dean said.  
   
+~+~+  
   
December 1812  
   
Considering his initial reacting to meeting the beta (and leaving aside the terrifying few moments when he thought he had become Castiel’s mate!), Dean had become good friends with Mr. Collins. So much that he had long ago told him Winchester House was at his disposal any time he was in the capital. So when a letter arrived from there that day, he opened it with pleasure.  
   
The news was not good. He waited until Castiel had had his first few cups of coffee before telling him.  
   
“There is news from Bristol”, he said gravely. “It is rather… embarrassing.”  
   
“We do not know anyone in Bristol”, Castiel said, furrowing his brow.  
   
“Apparently the local officials were called to a brothel”, Dean said gently, “where they found an alpha who had just died in one of the beds. He over-exerted himself during the act, they believe. It was Lord Zachariah.”  
   
Castiel sighed. He really wished the news had surprised him, but everyone in Longbourn and Meryton knew the old lord’s proclivities full well. It was frankly amazing that he had lasted this long.  
   
“I suppose that means that Inias inherits Lucas Lodge”, he observed.  
   
Dean nodded.  
   
“This happened last week”, he said, “and the letter comes from Mr. Collins at our house in London. It looks like he is quitting Kent to join his mate in Hertfordshire, which means they are a little nearer for you.”  
   
“Lady Naomi will doubtless be displeased”, Castiel observed shrewdly. “I know she rather liked the two of them. I wonder who she will get as a replacement.”  
   
“That makes me think that Mr. Collins may have foreseen this”, Dean said, “because apparently someone is already lined up. A distant relative of Lady Naomi, an alpha from Hampshire called Mr. Brenton Green.”  
   
“An unusual name”, Castiel said. “He must be something if Lady Naomi is prepared to accept someone from outside her beloved Kent!”

Dean smiled.  
   
“His mother is American”, he read, “which I suppose is difficult with the war between us at the moment. I must say that I am disappointed with the Americans. Wanting freedom from us one minute, then helping a dictator the next.”

“I can but wish the man well anyway”, Castiel smiled. “Especially going to work for Lady Naomi, blood or no blood. He will deserve a recommendation for sainthood if he survives unscathed!”


	11. Weeds In The Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean hits the big four-0, and is miffed that his mate agrees not to mark the day – well, sort of. Castiel nearly gets attacked, does some weeding, and sees the famous 'Puffing Billy'.

January 1813

Castiel had gone into an unsuppressed heat just after New Year, which meant a miserable start to eighteen hundred and thirteen, even if the news from abroad was increasingly good. Wellington finally had the French on the run in Spain, and although the Little General had indeed reached Moscow, he had found it empty and on fire (and the Russians had taken all the fire-engines!). Napoleon had been forced into the ultimate of horrors, a winter retreat over a hostile territory denuded of resources. But all that was small beer as far as Dean was concerned; he only knew that he wanted Cas and Cas wanted him, and keeping clear of him for seven whole days was sheer purgatory.  
   
The two had evolved a system over the years, whereby the omega had a ‘heat suite’ of rooms at the back of the house, accessed only down a single corridor except for a fire-exit. Whilst he was there, Dean slept in the small bedroom at the top end of the corridor, which also functioned as his study during his mate's heats. Dean refused to leave the house at these times, even though he knew in his heart of hearts that there was no real threat to his mate, and that the staff knew when bringing food to always alert him first so he could watch them place it outside his mate’s room and make sure they left.  
   
Which was why, on the third day of the heat, Dean was surprised to detect a strange alpha scent from the corridor outside. He looked at the clock, and his eyes narrowed; Castiel always had regular meal times during his heats, and it was nowhere near any of those. Moving silently to the door, he opened it and peeked out.  
   
A scruffy-looking alpha in his thirties was a little way down the corridor, moving purposefully towards his mate’s room. Even with the scented plants Dean had had placed along the corridor, it still reeked of omega in heat. The man was clearly intent on following the scent to its source, so much so that he did not even hear Dean slowly push the door wider.  
   
Castiel was reading quietly in his room when he heard what was undoubtedly his mate, snarling in the corridor outside. Before he could move, the sound of fighting could be heard, Dean’s furious growls and the frightened bark of what sounded like another alpha. The omega hurried to the door and opened it, to see Dean on top of an unknown alpha in the corridor, apparently intent on tearing the man’s throat out. Castiel did not hesitate, but hurried over and tried to soothe his alpha down from his enraged high. Dean continued to worry the now unconscious other alpha like a rag, but he slowly called down, and looked pleadingly at his mate. Belatedly Castiel got it, and hurried back to his room, locking the door behind him.  
   
+~+~+  
   
The strange alpha turned out to be the brother of one of the footmen, who had brought him a letter from their mother. Someone had mentioned to him that the laird of the house was in heat, and the fool had decided to try his luck. Presumably without telling anyone else, who would have warned him that there was a fiercely protective alpha nearby, prepared to throttle the living daylights out of him first and ask questions later.  
   
Wolstenholme, the footman involved, was horrified at his brother’s actions, and Dean was strongly tempted to sack him anyway for what he had put him through, but he knew full well that his mate would not approve. He settled on some stern words of warning instead, and made sure that a letter detailing what had happened was delivered with Castiel’s next meal. The answer came back hours later, the omega telling him how proud he was of how he had handled everything. Dean may or may not have preened over that.  
   
All right, he did.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Alphas are proud, brave, strong and resilient. Which was why Dean Winchester made it patently clear to everyone, and his mate in particular, that any celebration of his passing the birthday that came between thirty-nine and forty-one was totally unacceptable, and that serious harm would come to anyone who even mentioned the subject on the twenty-fourth of that month.  
   
Fortunately Castiel’s heat had ended over a week before the definitely-not-a-big-day, so Dean had been able to celebrate still being in his thirties with his mate. Still, Dean knew his mate well enough to suspect him of plotting something, so when the twenty-fourth finally dawned, he was ready for anything.  
   
Except, it turned out, there seemed nothing to be ready for. Castiel went about the day perfectly normally, and the only thing slightly out of the ordinary was that they had pie for dessert that day, rather than the usual custard. Dean was definitely not disappointed, of course; after all, this was what he had asked for.  
   
He just had not expected to actually get it.  
   
The two went to bed late that night, and Dean fell asleep as soon as he was wrapped around his mate. He woke up some little time later, and realized Castiel had gone somewhere, presumably for a glass of water. He looked at his watch.  
   
Just after midnight.  
   
A sound from the door made him look up, and he saw Castiel standing there, outlined in the silvery moonlight, wearing.....  
   
Ye Gods!  
   
“You said not on your birthday”, the omega said with a smile. “It is now January the twenty-fifth, so…..”  
   
Dean almost snarled. The omega smiled slightly, and walked slowly towards him….  
   
+~+~+  
   
Mrs. Barnes smiled as she checked over her maids’ work in the sitting-room.  
   
“Is the master not joining you for luncheon?” she asked with a knowing smile. Castiel blushed.  
   
“He is a little tired”, he said, trying not to look too self-satisfied. “He was up quite late last night.”  
   
“We heard!” the housekeeper smirked.  
   
Castiel’s blush deepened.  
   
+~+~+  
   
May 1813  
   
Castiel looked sharply at his husband.  
   
“Dean”, he said pointedly, “did you know Mother was away visiting the West Country when you suggested calling in on our way to London?”  
   
The alpha blushed. His omega could always see right through him.  
   
“Possibly”, he admitted.   
   
Mr. Bennet chuckled at his son’s mate’s discomfiture. Castiel looked at his alpha sternly, and Dean just knew there would be Consequences for what he had done.   
   
He suspected he might quite enjoy them.  
   
“It was good of you to come down for the big event”, he said. “Poor Mr. Collins was quite beside himself, what with, ahem, recent happenings.”  
   
Crowley and Inias Collins had moved into Lucas Lodge in February, Lady Amelia choosing to settle in the confusingly-named Old Lodge (actually the gatehouse) as it had plenty of room for her dogs, her most important concern. Mr. Collins had agreed to his mate’s request to hold a ball to mark their arrival in the area, and there had of course been much ill-natured gossip at Lord Zachariah’s method of demise. Inias had written to Castiel asking if there were any chance he and/or his alpha could visit to show support, and after some time Dean had suggested a date when he could stop on a trip to London. Now Castiel understood the reason for that delay.  
   
“Balthazar has returned to Newcastle, since Wickham’s regiment is one of those coming home”, Mr. Bennet said cheerily. “The news from Spain continues well, and I read that the Little General’s enemies are gathering for a final push against him.”  
   
Castiel smiled at his father, though in truth he was more than a little worried. Mr. Bennet rarely left Longbourn, and Castiel knew that he had suffered a prolonged illness the past winter. He looked older than the omega remembered, and it worried him.  
   
“At least I still have Michael”, his father smiled, seemingly guessing his thoughts, “though more often than not he had his head buried in a book. Then again, we never expected him to be the type to settle into a married life. He has insisted on taking a job at the local library, which he quite enjoys. It was good of you both to come to show your support, by the way.”  
   
“Anything for Inias”, Castiel said, still eying his mate with disapproval. “It is only a pity we could not have come sooner, is it not, Dean?”  
   
He tried not to laugh when Dean gave him his best piteous look. It just did not work on an alpha.  
   
“Yes, beloved”, Dean muttered.  
   
Mr. Bennet smiled fondly at them both.   
   
+~+~+  
   
October 1813  
   
Castiel knew that, as an omega, he had to be careful in certain social situations. True, his position was vastly better than nearly all other members of his gender, thanks mainly to everyone knowing they would have to answer to a very angry alpha if they upset him, but he knew from gossip and other sources that he had earned the respect of many on the estate. Yes, running an estate was like running a garden, really.  
   
Which meant that sometimes, one had to remove the weeds.  
   
The autumn had been thankfully mild this far, and Dean had decided that since it was time he threw a ball away from Christmas, he would have one to celebrate the double success that Great Britain and her allies had enjoyed on the Continent this past month. First, British troops had entered France across the Pyrenees, having completed the liberation of Spain. And just days later, the Little General’s enemies had finally worsted him on land at Leipzig, causing him to fall back towards Paris. The end of the war loomed large and welcome to everyone in England.  
   
The estate manager was an alpha called Edward Grinton, a solid man who was dependable rather than brilliant, but who did what was wanted and generally ran things very well. However, he had recently been involved in an inheritance dispute over a large estate up in the Furness district of Lancashire, and Dean had given him the time off to sort things out, as if all went well, he would be set up for life. This had meant the estate management fell into the hands of his deputy, a beta called Charles Goodman.  
   
Castiel had long entertained doubts about his deputy manager, and he was thankful that at times like this, the common folks on the estate felt they could approach him when he visited and tell him what was going on. It did not make pleasant listening. Mr. Goodman was using his position to make sure that whenever repair jobs were done on houses and business properties, the work was shoddy because he employed the cheapest people available, but then submitted false accounts for far more money, pocketing the difference. The omega had been quietly gathering evidence of his malfeasance, and at the ball he struck.  
   
“Mr. Goodman”, he said politely, having made sure that he had Dean at his back, “I was out at Lambton Mill yesterday.”  
   
“A good place”, Mr. Goodman nodded, “though the miller tends towards idleness.”  
   
“Indeed”, Castiel said smoothly. “And I spoke to a local man called Mr. Phineas Harthwaite.”  
   
The beta’s smile stayed fixed, but he began to look decidedly nervous.  
   
“Indeed?” he said.  
   
“Indeed”, Castiel echoed. “He told me of the repair work he did to the mill’s roof recently. Six shillings, fourpence ha’penny’s worth of repairs. Yet I recall seeing the invoice you submitted to my mate, and it was for ten shillings, tuppence and one farthing. I would be interested to hear you explain the difference.”  
   
“As would I!” Dean growled from behind him, wrapping two possessive arms around his mate. “Well?”  
   
The beta looked around nervously, but everyone in the vicinity was studiously ignoring him.  
   
“You will leave your house by the end of the month”, Dean said firmly. “It goes without saying that you are no longer employed at Pemberley.”  
   
Mr. Goodman risked a glare at Castiel, which earned him a warning growl from Dean, before slinking out of the room.  
   
+~+~+  
   
November 1813  
   
“You inherited a share in that?” Castiel asked incredulously, staring at the smoke-belching demon passing slowly before them.  
   
They were standing not far from the River Tyne, the border between Durham and Northumberland. A contraption that to Dean looked like just a giant boiler with a long funnel, belching smoke, was somehow managing to haul a train of coal wagons along the track, albeit at a pace barely that of a fast walk. The alpha smiled.  
   
“One of my godfathers”, he explained. “He had no sons of his own, so I always thought he might leave me something. Actually it is a share in the mine, but the railway is part of it.”  
   
“I am not sure I like the idea of your owning a mine”, the omega said with a frown. “All those poor workers underground, in terrible conditions.”  
   
“Actually, the mine-owners must have got wind of our reformist tendencies”, Dean said with a smile. “They have made a more than generous offer, and I have only come to sign the transfer. But I thought you might like to see these infernal machines that dear Ash thinks represent progress.”  
   
“If that is progress, you can keep it!” Castiel said with a shudder and the smoke-belching demon trundled slowly away down towards the docks.   
   
“It needs a lot of work”, Dean admitted. “The mine-owners say it is too heavy for the rails they use now, but they will either rebuild it with more wheels or get better rails.”  
   
“I suppose it is better than making a horse do it”, Castiel admitted. “I suppose I am old-fashioned, but it just seems like change for change’s sake to me.”  
   
“Then let us two old-timers adjourn to our hotel”, Dean said with a smile, “and do something we are still good at.”  
   
Castiel smiled at his mate as he helped him back into their carriage and they drove off, leaving ‘progress’ to wend its way slowly eastwards.


	12. Coping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg elopes, but it ends in disaster. Dean has an unexpected meeting with his aunt, and there is another death in the family.

January 1814

A structural survey of Pemberley a few months earlier had revealed that the place would need major repairs both inside and out, which would take six to nine months to finish. Since the internal ones could be done during the cold months, Dean and Castiel decided to spend that festive season in London, calling in at Castiel’s parents on the way down (no, Dean, you are not allowed to go onto London alone!). It was a testament to how much Dean loved his omega that he had endured Mrs. Bennet for a whole week before pleading that they needed to continue their journey.  
   
Christmas had passed uneventfully enough, but on Boxing Day a message had arrived that Mr. Bennet had sustained a fall and was badly injured. Castiel had decided to travel back with just a servant, and had left the same day. A good thing, as events turned out, because the following day had seen the capital swathed in the thickest fog Dean had ever seen, making all travel impossible.  
   
It also brought an unexpected visitor to Winchester House, namely Dean’s aunt, Lady Naomi de Burgh. Now well into her fifties, she was as erect and proud as ever, and quite clearly did not take kindly to the weather conditions that had forced her to abandon her attempt to reach her Kentish home after just a few miles. Dean had welcomed her coolly, silently glad that his mate was not there, presuming (correctly, as it turned out) that the same weather that would stop her from travelling would prevent his mate’s return. In the event, it was three days into the New Year that the fog began to lift, and his aunt left, though not before thanking him with a surprising degree of civility for his hospitality. She did not, of course, mention Castiel by name.  
   
Dean left London as soon as he could, and hurried to Hertfordshire, to find things were somewhat better. Mr. Bennet had recovered, helped no doubt by his second-eldest son’s presence. Poor Castiel looked frazzled, having had to deal with both a sick father and… well, his mother, and Dean pulled him into a hug as soon as he arrived, glad to smell his omega’s reassuring scent.   
   
Family was set to be a dominant theme in the months to come.  
   
+~+~+  
   
April 1814  
   
“The best place for him”, Dean roundly declared. “It is but a pity we cannot send him to the Moon!”  
   
He and Castiel were visiting Sam and Gabriel at Lynton. It was a cold spring day, and the rain beat gently against the window. Castiel sipped at his coffee and smiled.  
   
“I do think they would have done better to adhere to the idea of a remote island somewhere”, he observed. “This Elba is but a few miles from the Tuscan coast. Even with the Bourbons restored, I cannot see the Little General being content with such an ‘empire’.”  
   
News had just reached England that, following his defeat at the hands of the Sixth Coalition (read, Great Britain and her more off than on allies), Napoleon Bonaparte was to be exiled to a small island in the Mediterranean. Dean looked at his friend curiously.  
   
“You are very quiet today, Sammy”, he said. “Is anything wrong?”  
   
“We are all fine”, the taller alpha said. “At least, my family are.”  
   
His guests both looked at him quizzically.  
   
“He means the Meg Monster”, Gabriel said with a smile. “She is up in arms because Sammy will not pay for her to go to London.”  
   
“Why does she want to go all that way?” Castiel asked curiously. Travel, even in a private carriage, was rarely something anyone did if they could avoid it, although the roads were slowly improving.  
   
“She chanced to meet an alpha called Augustus Fredericks last time we were down there”, Sam said. “We only later found out that he is a very distant cousin of the king, something like fifth once removed or some such. Apparently he and she had been writing to reach other since his return to Hanover, and he is in London this spring and summer.”  
   
“A royal marriage?” Dean said. “Knowing Meg, she might well start the next war just because the mood took her!”  
   
His mate scowled at him, particularly because Dean had taken the precaution of moving out of hitting distance as he was speaking. Gabriel chuckled.  
   
“The man has a title but no lands of his own”, Sam explained. “An elder brother is duke of some little country that is basically a town and the surrounding countryside, but he has no chance of inheriting.”  
   
“Don’t forget the other thing”, Gabriel prompted him.  
   
“What other thing?” Dean asked.  
   
“There is a bit of an age difference”, Sam said slowly. “She is thirty-seven and he…. is sixty-two.”  
   
His two guests stared at him in silence.  
   
“Of course, the fact he is horribly rich is neither here nor there”, Gabriel said airily. “Apparently some godfather died and left him lots of shares in some business or other, and he could probably buy out all his older brothers and have cash to spare.”  
   
“Gabe!” Sam said reprovingly.   
   
His mate raised an eyebrow at him. Sam sighed.  
   
“For the age difference, I am inclined to oppose the match”, he said firmly. “But I do not expect her to take it well.”  
   
+~+~+  
   
Reader, she did not.  
   
+~+~+  
   
June 1814  
   
It was a quiet summer at Pemberley, and Dean enjoyed that. The war on the Continent, lasting for the past two decades on and off, was finally over, and the country could settle down to peace and quiet.  
   
Castiel had recently come back from one of his frequent tours of the estate, visiting some outlying places along the border with Yorkshire. Contrary to what many people believed, the omega knew full well that there were all too many people who would take advantage of his largesse, and liked to call in on people unexpectedly to find out how they were really doing, and if they needed his help or not. If they did, that help was usually forthcoming, and he had reminded Dean more than once in recent days that just because the war was over, it did not mean everyone’s sufferings would be too.  
   
It was just after dinner when Gabriel Bingley was announced. Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise; people generally did not call on each other at such times except in cases of dire emergency.  
   
It turned out this was a case of dire emergency.  
   
“Meg is gone!” the omega said, slumping exhaustedly into a chair.  
   
“Gone where?” Dean asked, puzzled.  
   
“Sam arranged for her to visit some friends on the Yorkshire coast, to get over her recent marital disappointment”, their guest said. “Well, it seems she and this Lord Adolphus fellow had something planned. He has spirited her away to somewhere or other, and there is neither hide nor hair of her.”  
   
“Not to Hanover, surely?” Castiel said, aghast.  
   
“More probably to London”, Gabriel admitted. “Where better to hide than in a crowded city?”  
   
“I have some contacts there”, Dean said. “Would you like me to see if they can trace her?”  
   
“It would easy Sam’s mind”, Gabriel said. “He is frantic with worry; he has left for the hotel she was staying at, but I do not think he will find anything there.”  
   
“I will write immediately”, Dean said. “My friend Victor has helped me out on more than one occasion, so let us hope he can perform another miracle for that silly woman.”  
   
+~+~+  
   
July 1814  
   
The following month brought mixed news about the Derbyshire runaway.  
   
She was found. That was the good news.  
   
She and her prospective mate had not only married, but had consummated their relationship. That was the bad news.  
   
He had died in the middle of said consummation.  
   
“Poor Meg!” Castiel said sadly. He had always felt a sliver of sympathy for the woman, despite the fact that she had been instrumental in splitting Sam and Gabriel up after their first meetings. Which in turn reminded him of his and Dean’s first disastrous encounter, and how he very firmly put the alpha In His Place.  
   
“What are you thinking of, beloved?” Dean asked gently.   
   
“Things past”, Castiel said vaguely. “I am sorry for her, really. She never got over losing you.”  
   
“She never had me, thank God!” Dean said fervently. “I only tolerated her for Sammy’s sake, whatever she may or may not have thought. There was more chance of me marrying Gabriel here!”  
   
“Hey!” their visitor squawked.  
   
+~+~+  
   
October 1814  
   
One of the things Dean Winchester liked about having Samuel Bingley as a friend was that the man was always so easy-going. In earlier years this had rendered him likely to imagine himself in love with all sorts of females and omegas, many of whom were more interested in his fortune than his person, but fortunately he had had an older friend to keep him out of trouble. Older and wiser.  
   
The alpha caught his mate looking pointedly at him across the sitting-room at Lynton, and blushed. He was far too transparent where Castiel was concerned.  
   
“So Meg is to return?” Castiel said gently.  
   
“Yes”, Sam said, his tone unusually sharp. “But not here.”  
   
Three pairs of eyes looked at him in surprise.  
   
“Not here?” Gabriel echoed at last.  
   
“The woman had disgraced this family”, Sam said angrily. “It was bad enough that she plotted an elopement with someone two and a half decades her senior, but to then subsequently try to woo his elder brother….”  
   
Words seemed to fail the taller alpha.  
   
“Where will she go?” Castiel asked.  
   
“There is a small cottage near Lambton, on the road to Derby”, Sam said. “I have ordered all her things to be transferred there, and the carriage I have sent to London will take her there when she returns. She is not to be admitted to the house for a whole year. After that time, I may consider allowing her visiting rights, and possibly to move back eventually. But I will not have my family’s good name sullied by the actions of their aunt!”  
   
Dean was surprised, but heartened. The dratted woman had indeed made the Bingleys the talk of local society, and not for any good reasons. She needed a lesson in behaviour, though the alpha doubted she would learn it. Her sort rarely did.  
   
+~+~+  
   
January 1815  
   
Castiel read the letter again, to make sure he had not misunderstood it, then bit back a sob. Dean, sat writing across the room, almost fell over his chair in his haste to reach his mate, enfolding him in his arms. The omega nestled in as close as he could, sniffling into his mate’s chest.  
   
“What is it?” Dean whispered.  
   
“Father has passed away”, Castiel said quietly.  
   
Dean nodded. Mr. Bennet’s illness two years past had left him seriously drained, and he knew Castiel had been worried about his father ever since.   
   
“Mother is beside herself”, Castiel said, sniffing back more tears. “She is sure Mr. Collins will be measuring for new furniture before the funeral.”  
   
Dean tensed.  
   
“What is it?” Castiel asked at once. Dean pulled him closer.  
   
“After your father’s last illness”, he said gently, “I took the precaution of speaking to both him and Mr. Collins. We arranged that, should your father predecease your mother, then I would pay a rent so she could stay at Longbourn for as long as she wished.”  
   
Castiel looked up at his mate, his blue eyes full of tears.  
   
“You did that?” he asked tremulously. “For me?”  
   
“You are my life and soul, beloved”, Dean said gently. “I would spend every last penny I own – even Pemberley, if it came to it – to make you happy.”  
   
And that made Castiel finally break, sobbing tears of gratitude into his mate’s silken short. Dean just held him, glad he could be there for the one man he loved above all humanity.  
 


	13. After The War Is Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam's circumstances undergo a dramatic change thanks to the renewal of the war on the Continent. He is not the only one to be affected by the Battle of Waterloo. Castiel finds coping with his father's death difficult, and Dean rides a Comet.

March 1815

Something seemed to have broken inside his mate with the death of his father. Although Charles Bennet had always been a remote figure, for Castiel he had always been there, even if the man had been lacking in so many qualities.   
   
Technically it fell to Castiel, as the married omega with the richer partner, to sort out the estate, but he just felt that he was not up to the job. He was truly grateful that Gabriel for once stepped forward and took on the task, it being easier for him as he had never been that close to their father.   
   
If Castiel was a wreck, his mate was little better. Dean did not know what to do, apart from his already arranged help on sorting out the matter of Longbourn. Seeing his beloved omega so distrait that winter hit the alpha hard, which was why he was glad that the advent of spring brought two events that helped to snap Castiel out of his misery.   
   
Even if one was the threat of a renewed war on the Continent.  
   
+~+~+  
   
“I do not know which is worse”, Castiel grumbled, pausing in his writing. “That that horrible little Frenchman is back in power, or that our own government has decided to do over the poor again.”  
   
Dean was secretly glad that either or both of these events had snapped his mate out of his torpor, but merely nodded his agreement. The government had just passed a law which effectively taxed all imported grain, the foundation for so many foods, until it reached a certain price. The idea was to favour home producers and render the country less reliable on imports, but of course the effect was to force up the price of bread, hitting the common people, whilst favouring the Tory landowners who comprised the government.  
   
“It is very difficult”, the alpha said. “If I lower prices on our own bread and grain, then people from nearby areas will come in and try to buy it, plus there is the danger that some of our own people may sell on what they buy to make a profit.”  
   
“It is not much use having a profit if you are starving”, Castiel pointed out. “We know who works on our estate and who does not. Why not simply allow prices to rise, but then refund those who buy the difference?”  
   
Dean smiled, and kissed his mate’s hair.  
   
“An excellent idea, beloved”, he said. “Our estate is so lucky to have you.”

+~+~+  
   
June 1815  
   
Dean had always got on well with his cousin, Major Adam Fitzwilliam. Events in his mate’s troubled year thus far had meant he had not seen the man for some time, so he was pleasantly surprised when he arrived unannounced at Pemberley amidst the celebrations for the recent great victory of the British and their late-arriving Prussian allies over the Little General. Though one look at his cousin’s face told him there would be little cause for celebrating.   
   
Dean presumed that his friend’s grave expression must mean that his sole nephew, the current earl’s son George, might have succumbed to the whooping–cough that had plagued him of late. In fact it was much worse.   
   
“George died last Monday”, Adam said heavily.   
   
“I am sorry”, Dean offered.   
   
“There is more”, the major said grimly. “Eddie was killed in the retreat from Quatre Bras last Thursday, and I just received news that neither Josh nor George survived Waterloo.”  
   
Dean let that sink in for a moment. That meant Adam was now heir to the one surviving brother, Earl William, who was past fifty and unlikely to be having any more children, especially as he was estranged from his wife to whom he had refused to grant a divorce. So Adam would be lord of Standford one day; probably sooner rather than later, given the earl’s libertine lifestyle.  
   
“I never bargained for this!” His cousin said, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair. “I’m thirty-seven years old, and was looking forward to a quiet life on an army pension. Not being lord of a manor!”  
   
“You can get used to it”, Dean said. “Why not spend some time here for a few months? Now that the fighting is over, the army would surely not object to you taking some time out, especially with your brothers’ estates.”  
   
“That is another thing”, Adam said testily. “Bill wants to ignore their wills – I know for sure that both Eddie and George wrote one, saying they wanted to leave what they had to military charities.”  
   
“He cannot do that”, Dean said firmly, “and now that you are his heir, he has to work with you. Unless he and the countess get back together.”  
   
“There is more chance of Hell freezing over!” Adam said sharply.  
   
+~+~+  
   
August 1815  
   
Dean stared uncertainly at the boat. He was not overly fond of travel by water, and this things gently putting out steam into the Lanarkshire summer skies looked positively dangerous.  
   
His mate chuckled at him.  
   
“It is called progress”, Castiel smiled, stepping aboard the craft. “Come on, Dean!”  
   
The alpha looked for help from Mr. and Mrs. Singer, who were standing behind him with their son, but all three just looked expectantly at him. Traitors! Sighing, he heaved his frame onto the ship after his mate, and they were soon joined by their friends.  
   
“I just have a bad feeling”, Dean pouted. “Named after a comet. It’s going to crash and burn, I just know it!”  
   
“The top speed is about six miles per hour”, Ash pointed out, far too reasonably for Dean’s liking. “It would hardly be much of a crash. Besides, it’s just water from here to Greenock.”  
   
“Though the captain says he can do ten with a following wind, and using the sail as well as the paddle-wheels”, Bobby grinned. “That’s as fast as a stagecoach!”  
   
“Not helping!” Dean grumbled. “And it’s too cold.”  
   
“Let us get into the cabin, then”, Castiel smiled. “Besides, I am sure I can warm you up, beloved.”  
   
Dean harrumphed, and followed his mate into the cabin, their friends opting to stay on deck and watch the departure.   
   
Castiel had been right. He did know a way to make Dean warmer.  
   
+~+~+  
   
September 1815  
   
Typically, it was a letter from his brother Michael which alerted Castiel to the news. He had to read it twice before he fully grasped the implications of what it said.  
   
“Is something wrong?” Dean yawned. It was only two days after Castiel’s thirty-eighth birthday, and the celebrations had taken rather a lot out of both of them. They had spent much of the previous day napping, ordering food to their bedroom and enjoying never actually getting dressed.  
   
“It is from Michael”, his mate said wonderingly. “He writes that things are so much noisier at Longbourn now, since Balthazar has decided to move back in. Following the death of his mate at Waterloo.”  
   
Dean was suddenly very much awake.  
   
“What?” he gasped, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. Wickham was, to his mate at least, family, albeit unwelcome.  
   
“He did not re-join his regiment after the battle”, Castiel said, “and has been posted as missing, presumed dead.”  
   
“No body”, Dean said darkly.  
   
“In the mess after a great battle, there will have been hundreds, if not thousands of unidentifiable dead bodies”, Castiel said sadly. “Most, regrettably, looted of anything identifiable before they were cold. Besides, what would he gain by deserting now? The war is over, and he could have easily returned home a hero. No, he is gone.”  
   
He glanced at his mate. He knew what Dean was feeling at the death of his arch-enemy, and he was grateful that the alpha did not put those feelings into words. Getting up, he walked over to where Dean was lying on the couch and sat down, scooting himself back until he was in his mate’s lap. The alpha wrapped both arms slowly around him and Castiel sighed.   
   
This was where he belonged.  
   
+~+~+  
   
October 1815  
   
Adam groaned as he sank into one of the study chairs.  
   
“I always thought that omegas and ladies were the ones to be forced into marriage”, he said bitterly. “My brother has made my life hell ever since the funeral. If he mentions marriage one more time, I swear that I am going to lose it!”  
   
“Certainly some of us omegas do have to settle for what we can get”, Castiel said with a sly smile. He counted silently, reaching four before his mate let out an indignant squeak and glared at him. “Who is she?”  
   
Their guest looked at him in surprise.  
   
“Who is who?” he asked.  
   
“The girl or omega you have your eye on”, Castiel said knowingly. “Obviously all these potential partners would not worry you overly much if you did not already have someone else in mind. Are we to take it that she is unsuitable in some way?”  
   
Dean fully expected his cousin to put his mate right, but to his surprise and shock Adam just went bright red.  
   
“Adam?”  
   
“Her name is Miss Felicity Westwood”, Adam said dolefully. “She is twenty-nine, and one of two daughters of Mr. Josiah Westwood.”  
   
“Button Joe”, Castiel said knowingly. His mate looked at him in confusion. “He is a man who made his fortune in the manufacture and selling of buttons, especially designer ones for the nobility. People will pay a surprising amount to have something their social rivals do not.”  
   
“He is also what Bill calls ‘trade’”, Adam said unhappily, “and as such, not worth even considering. Flick and I love each other, but even though she is worth more than nearly all the potential matches I have had paraded before me, he would never countenance such a union.”  
   
“Could he stop it?” Castiel wondered.  
   
“He might be so incensed as to try to disinherit me”, Adam said. “Normally I would not mind – but to add to all our other problems, Cousin Walter died last week.”  
   
Castiel looked confused.  
   
“A Scottish cousin, and next in line after Adam”, Dean explained. “Which means his obnoxious younger brother Robert steps up.”  
   
“I do not mind the Scots as a rule, but I will be damned if I let that man inherit!” Adam said crossly. “He visited us but once, and if I had had a shilling for every time he complained about the 1707 Act of Union, I would have been able to buy myself an island somewhere and retire there!”  
   
“Does your brother the earl like him?” Dean wondered.  
   
“He thinks the same as I do”, Adam said.  
   
“Then perhaps that is a way forward”, Dean said with a smile. “I will drop by Standford and see what can be done to persuade him that Miss Westwood is his best chance of avoiding a Scottish tragedy.”  
   
+~+~+  
   
December 1815  
   
The wedding took place at St. Clement Danes in the capital, and was watched by the usual gaggle of curious Londoners. A tall man in ex-military uniform wandered up to see what all the fuss was about.  
   
“Who is getting married?” he asked.  
   
“Major Adam Fitzwilliam, cousin to the famous Lord Winchester of Pemberley”, a woman told him. “He is marrying a London girl whose father made a fortune in business. Titles marrying money, again.”  
   
“He is heir to his estate now”, a man pointed out reasonably. “He would be rich enough without marrying more money.”  
   
“I suppose one can never have enough”, the soldier said knowingly. Then he espied a man he had stood behind earlier feeling for his wallet. “Duty calls, I am afraid. I am sure we all wish the happy couple well.”  
   
He strode swiftly away, one hand on the stolen wallet in his pocket, until he was safely behind a pillar in a nearby building. From there he could see the bride and groom emerging, and behind them, the groom’s cousin and his mate, resplendent in matching suits except for the green and blue waistcoats and ties.  
   
“Mr. and Monseigneur Winchester”, the ex-soldier muttered softly. “Some day, my pretties!”


	14. The Life Of Pie?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard times for the country after the war is over. Dean and Castiel attend a royal wedding, Dean has too much pie, and the local preacher angers the master of Pemberley.

March 1816

Castiel Winchester was fuming.  
   
“I cannot believe it!” he stormed. “The economy still in ruins after that interminable war, and now the government votes to abolish the one tax on the rich!”  
   
“We are the rich, beloved”, Dean pointed out quietly. Very quietly. He knew his mate was upset, and that he felt things very deeply. He rubbed his hand gently along the back of Castiel’s neck, and the omega relaxed into him.  
   
“I still feel that it is wrong”, he said unhappily. “I know we lowered our rates and such for the war, but what with this and these dreaded Corn Laws, it is no wonder people are abandoning the countryside for the towns.”  
   
“I will use the money I shall save to keep our rates low for a time”, Dean promised.  
   
The omega turned and looked up at him.  
   
“Thank you, beloved”, he whispered, kissing his mate gently.  
   
“Um, is there any chance of the lord of the manor getting a reward for his great benevolence?” Dean offered.  
   
Castiel looked at him pointedly, and Dean was about to withdraw his remark when he suddenly realized just where his mate’s hand was going…..  
   
+~+~+  
   
May 1816  
   
Dean sniffed at the wedding invitation as if it was going to explode or something. His mate chuckled at him.  
   
“It is a testament to the great social standing of Mr. Dean Winchester that the Prince Regent ‘commands his presence’ at his daughter’s wedding”, Castiel smiled.  
   
“It is a bore!” Dean said flatly. “Lots of people I shall have to spend far too long finding ways to avoid talking to, or being talked at by. And unlike a ball at Pemberley, we cannot just slip away for time to ourselves.”  
   
He looked hopefully at his omega as he spoke, and was pleased to see Castiel blush.  
   
“Bad alpha!” he hissed. They were alone in Winchester House, but the omega had never felt the comfort he always enjoyed in their Derbyshire home. And even more than his mate, he dreaded major social gatherings.  
   
Unfortunately, there was really no avoiding this one. With the Prince Regent and his wife living apart and absolutely no chance of any reconciliation, it was their sole daughter Princess Charlotte who would one day be Queen of the British Empire. Which meant said daughter’s marriage was of great import.  
   
“Even if it is to some half-baked German prince whose father rules a couple of villages”, Dean said tartly.  
   
“He and the princess are distant cousins”, Castiel observed, “and despite the Bourbons being back on the French throne and a certain little general safely on an island in the middle of the wide Atlantic Ocean, it always pays to have friends on the Continent - even if they do rule over just ‘a couple of villages’.”  
   
Dean smiled and moved closer to the fire. Winter had not been particularly bad that year, but spring had yet to put in much of an appearance.  
   
“At least they have done the seating on a regional basis”, Dean said. “The last big event we came to, Lord Horsemere came onto you far too strongly. And him well past fifty!”  
   
“He only asked after my health”, Castiel said with a smile.  
   
“It was the way he asked”, Dean said sulkily. “He only had one thing on his mind at the time.”  
   
Castiel moved away and looked very pointedly at his alpha, who had the decency to blush.  
   
“I am your mate”, Dean said defensively. “It is in my nature to think about guarding you from all unwanted attentions.”  
   
“I see”, Castiel said with a smile. “And what if I actually want some attentions?”  
   
Dean spluttered for some moments before he caught the look in his mate’s eyes, then pulled him into a tight embrace.  
   
“You will get all the attention you could ever want from me!” he insisted. “I promise you that!”  
   
Castiel ground himself against him, and Dean let out a whine which a passing observer might have described as piteous. He spun the omega round and hoisted him into his arms, before carrying him over to the couch to make his point forcibly…..  
   
+~+~+  
   
‘Lord Winchester and his mate’ had been amongst the select few invited to the wedding reception that evening. It had passed off uneventfully, but Castiel had been slightly alarmed to notice the number of pies that seemed to be on offer. He foresaw trouble.  
   
The next day, Dean could not make it out of their bed at Winchester House.  
   
“Too full!” he groaned. “Need beer!”  
   
“Water is better for you”, Castiel told him, getting up off their bed.  
   
“Water’s poisoned!” Dean groused. “Beer is better!”  
   
It was all too close to the truth. A capital city with an expanding population and no sewage treatment saw everything dumped in the drinking water, and although Winchester House was linked to one of the few private water companies to serve the capital with fresh water, the supply was not always reliable.  
   
“I shall see if the kitchen can provide us with some small beer”, Castiel offered. “You do not need full-strength alcohol in your state, Dean.”  
   
The alpha made to protest, but even a simple movement caused him to yelp in pain and clutch his distended stomach.   
   
“Have pity on the poor invalid!” Dean called out.  
   
“You have over-eaten, Dean”, Castiel said, fighting to bite back a smile. “It is not exactly the plague. Perhaps this will teach you not to each too much pie.”  
   
“No such thing as too much pie”, Dean sulked, falling back onto the bed.  
   
“That is a pity”, Castiel said, “because I was going to suggest we just stay in bed all day and keep each other warm. But clearly you are too unwell for that.”  
   
Dean looked pitifully at him, and Castiel finally had to smile. He kissed his mate and hurried away to the kitchens, to procure him some liquid refreshment.  
   
+~+~+  
   
June 1816  
   
Castiel and Dean were staying at Lucas Lodge for a couple of weeks before their return to Derbyshire. Mr. Collins had funded a major rebuilding of his recently-acquired Longbourn, and although it could be done around Mrs. Bennet and her two sons, there was not enough room for visitors.   
   
The fact that this spared the married couple Mrs. Bennet’s cooking was just an incidental bonus.  
   
Unfortunately it did not spare them everything. Castiel had been frankly shocked by his youngest brother’s impropriety in all but celebrating the news of his mate’s death. He had felt a moment of grim satisfaction when Dean had reminded Balthazar that, under the laws of England, the omega could not remarry until five years had elapsed since Wickham’s death had been posted as official, thus until the end of 1820. The way his brother’s face fell at that news was indeed pleasurable.  
   
Castiel was also a little concerned over his other brother. Michael, some four years his junior, may have been unlikely to find a mate at his age, but the older omega noticed that his brother looked increasingly unhappy. He could guess the reason why; Balthazar’s return had probably disturbed the relative tranquility of Longbourn, especially with his being their mother’s favourite. Michael had, like Castiel, also been close to their late father, and must have missed his presence as much as he did.  
   
Inias had confirmed this by mentioning that the middle Bennet omega was often over at their house, just reading quietly in the library.   
   
“You yourself need to drop by more often”, Inias said with a smile.  
   
“Why?” Castiel asked.  
   
“Dear Crowley is much happier after he and your mate had that talk the other day”, Inias said. “He passed forty earlier this year, and I think it was the first time he really felt the seven-year difference in our ages. Plus, Nehemiah continues to be difficult, especially now he has taken up with Uriel.”  
   
“Your brother is not mated yet, then?” Castiel asked.  
   
“He seems to think he can continue to live off of us”, Inias said ruefully. “Dear Crowley is a saint over such things, but I think even he is nearing the end of his tether. Fortunately your brother Rafe may be riding to the rescue, at least in the short term.”  
   
“How is that?”  
   
“He requires someone to work for his church over in the United States for three years”, Inias said, “and he asked for Uriel. The two are, though I should probably not say it, similar in zealotry, though in different directions. He may be my blood, but I cannot say that he would be truly missed.”  
   
“Balthazar is my blood”, Castiel agreed, “but I should probably feel the same if he obtained such a position. I do not suppose there is any chance of a second post…..?”  
   
He looked inquiringly at his friend, and they both laughed.  
   
+~+~+  
   
August 1816  
   
“I hate this weather!” Dean groused. “Spring was a washout, but at least we had a couple of good days. But summer? Hah!”  
   
“The estate reports are that crops are failing everywhere”, Castiel said with a frown. “I really hope this is a one-off, and that whatever horrible joke the weather gods are playing does not last.”  
   
“You think this could continue?” Dean said worriedly.  
   
“My feeling is that it will not”, the omega said. “I have no logical basis for that, nor do I know what has caused this, but somehow I think it will pass. The important thing is that we get our own people through it, or some of them may decide to leave for the towns as well.”  
   
“At least with prices so high, we have access to imports”, Dean said. “I shall make sure that our people have enough grain to see them though the coming winter, though we shall have to be careful about profiteers and people coming in from outside.”  
   
“Human behaviour”, Castiel said with a sigh. “It is so often disappointing.”  
   
Dean waved the Times at him.  
   
“Here is a better side, at least”, he said. “The Royal Navy has been shelling Algiers, to stop those slave-trading Mohammedan barbarians from their evil business.”  
   
“I seem to recall that, less than a decade ago, that was our evil business?” Castiel reminded him.  
   
“We have evolved”, Dean said loftily. “They, it seems, prefer the Dark Ages. Perhaps when their towns are a little flatter, they will have less time to go round stealing other people’s people.”  
   
His mate quirked an eyebrow at him.  
   
“I know what I mean!”  
   
+~+~+  
   
November 1816  
   
Castiel sometimes thought of himself as peacemaker when it came to his mate, especially as Dean felt things as deeply as he himself did but only rarely expressed them. When he did, they often came out badly.  
   
Storming out of their local church during the All Saints’ Day service was certainly one way of expressing one’s feelings. Castiel had been torn as to whether to stay and try to smooth things out or pursue his mate, but he too had been roused by the sermon, and he opted for pursuit. Fortunately he found his mate in their carriage, still steaming.  
   
“Did you hear that, Cas?” the alpha burst out angrily. “That frocked idiot says that this is God’s way of showing how much he loves mankind, by culling the weaker members off! How dare he?”  
   
The omega had in all truthfulness found the sermon as offensive as his mate clearly had, but his first job was to calm Dean down. He eased into the carriage and sat alongside him, their sides touching, his arm around the taller man. Eventually Dean’s breathing seemed to return to normal, though he was still clearly upset.  
   
“I think you made your feelings quite clear”, the omega said with a smile. “But it is the Church of England, beloved. If you go in with all guns blazing as is your wont, they will defend their man on principle.”  
   
“Hah!” Dean snorted.   
   
“Why not indicate your disapproval in a more subtle way?” Castiel suggested.  
   
His mate turned to look at him.  
   
“What did you have in mind?” he asked, curious.  
   
“Well”, Castiel said, “there is no real reason why the rector of Pemberley should preach at the house church. We have six services a year here at least. Why not invite other churchmen in from the area instead?”  
   
Dean looked at him for a moment, then chuckled.  
   
“Everyone will say that old Smith is no longer good enough!” he smiled.  
   
“Will they really?” Castiel said in mock surprise. “Oh how sad. That would be terrible.”  
   
Dean pulled him into a kiss.  
   
“I love you so much”, he whispered. “It scares me sometimes.”  
   
“Only sometimes?” Castiel said dryly. “Then clearly I must try harder.”  
   
“Why, you…?”  
   
“People are coming out of the church, Dean.”  
   
The alpha scowled at him, and banged on the carriage roof to tell the driver to move off.  
   
“Wait till I get you home!” he hissed.  
   
Castiel merely grinned at him.  
 


	15. Heat Of The Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has problems with his heats, which leads to Dean having a bad moment in the kitchens. The alpha clashes with William Earl of Hexhamshire, Adam's elder brother, over some unwise words, and Dean's life is not stranger than fiction.

March 1817

It was Scaden Winchester’s fifteenth birthday, and it should have been a day of celebration at Pemberley. Yet for the past two months Castiel had been strangely distant from his mate, only giving perfunctory answers when spoken to, and often seeming in a world of his own. Dean was sufficiently worried to brave his kitchens, and ask the Coven (i.e. Mrs. Barnes and Mrs. Moseley) if either of them knew what was wrong.  
   
The two women both looked at him as if he were a complete idiot. Which was perhaps fair enough, for when they spoke, he realized he may well have been.  
   
“How long is it since the laird’s last heat?” Mrs. Barnes said at last.  
   
Dean thought for a moment, then suddenly realized. Castiel should have had an unsuppressed heat in early January, one which he ‘rode out’ (an inappropriate term if ever there was one) to keep his regular suppressants working. Dean had been so busy supporting him in his support for the reformist movement that he had not noticed that the heat simply had not happened. And nor had there been the next suppressed heat, which would have been due at the end of last month.   
   
“Cas isn’t fertile!” he blurted out.  
   
He realized belatedly that Mrs. Moseley was holding a very large and very sharp carving-knife, which she looked half-inclined to use, judging from her dark expression.  
   
“He is my mate, in sickness and in health”, Dean blurted out quickly. “Why did he not say something?”  
   
The looks the two women exchanged said louder than any words, ‘God give me strength!’  
   
“He is already vulnerable because he cannot birth you any more sons”, Mrs. Barnes said sharply. “How do you think he feels now his body may not even be able to go into heat?”  
   
“He feels worthless”, Dean guessed, feeling ashamed. “He feels….. damnation!”  
   
He shot up and all but fled the kitchen. The two women looked knowingly at each other. Neither smiled, but it was close.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Scaden’s party was to be a small family affair, at his request, and to just involve a cake and his choice of dinner. It was to start at six.  
   
At half-past five Castiel was reading in the Sun Room at the front of the house when he saw Dean’s carriage approaching down the drive. It pulled up outside the front door with more speed than decorum, and a familiar figure hurried out of it.   
   
Castiel gulped. This, it seemed, was it.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Scaden’s birthday dinner was delayed for half an hour whilst Doctor Alton was upstairs with his mate. Dean waited anxiously in the next room whilst the doctor quickly examined his mate, took some tests and asked some questions. When their visitor opened the connecting door for him, the alpha almost knocked him over in his eagerness to get to Castiel.  
   
The omega looked so much happier, though he had also quite clearly been crying. Dean pulled him into an embrace and could not help but scent him, even though the doctor was present. Their visitor waited a respectful while, then coughed pointedly.   
   
“Nothing more than stress, I am pleased to report”, he said. “All that work you have been doing has left you feeling so intense that your body has not even needed the heat tablets, let alone felt the urge to go into heat. Just take things easy for a couple of weeks, and things will be back to normal.”  
   
“I have responsibilities….” Castiel began.  
   
“I shall see to it that he does exactly that, doctor”, Dean said firmly. “I hope I did not ruin your day with my sudden demand on your time?”  
   
The doctor smiled.  
   
“Fortunately I take Wednesdays off now”, he said, “so your man caught me at home. I am glad to be the bearer of good news to you both. Take care of yourself, Monseigneur Novak.”  
   
He bowed courteously to them both – as an alpha, he knew better than to approach when another alpha was embracing his omega – and left. Dean swept his mate into a kiss, then hugged him close as Castiel scented him in return.  
   
“Promise me that, next time, you will tell me”, the alpha begged. “I have been so worried, and I was too stupid to realize….”  
   
“I promise”, Castiel said. “We had better go to Scaden’s dinner, so I can start all this relaxing.”  
   
Dean fondled the omega’s impossible hair.  
   
“You are not going to get much relaxing done tonight, Cas!”  
   
+~+~+  
   
June 1817  
   
It could be fairly said that Dean Winchester was not overly fond of William Fitzwilliam, Earl of Hexhamshire and Adam’s elder brother. The man was, in Dean’s opinion, the worst example of the British aristocracy, careless towards his tenants and a poor manager of his estate. It was fortunate that his late father, Rupert, had left him with a set of managers who, unlike his son, knew what they were doing, leaving said son free to attend to other matters.  
   
And to stick his nose in where it definitely was not wanted.  
   
“Damned right that they called in the bloody Army!” the earl snorted. He had caught Dean whilst the latter had been visiting a club in Derby, and the master of Pemberley had been unable to escape. “Ruddy people, thinking they can tell us what to do.”  
   
“We are a democracy, of sorts”, Dean pointed out equably. “The government would have done better to let them go and petition parliament, and it would all have been forgotten about very quickly. Suppressing the march at source gives the papers another stick to beat them with.”  
   
“Damned papers, printing libellous slander”, the earl grumbled, pouring himself another drink. Adam was going to come into his inheritance sooner rather than later if he kept that up. “And your mate should know better.”  
   
A person with any sense (i.e. not Earl William) would have detected the change in Dean’s stance when he said that. Several other members looked up in alarm, and one slipped away to the front desk.  
   
“In what way?” Dean asked, far too politely.  
   
“Writing that letter to the Times, supporting the rebels”, the earl said. “Anyone reading it is going to think that you might be supporting them!”  
   
“That is possible”, Dean said. “It is a free country, and Cas has the right to voice his opinion.”  
   
“Damned omegas should know their place!” the earl snorted. “In my day they’d have been kept locked up and collared. Best place for them!”  
   
His glass was dashed from his hand, and his eyes widened as he realized that his fellow alpha was towering over him, his hand grabbing his collar and his eyes flaring with anger. The earl went pale.  
   
“Understand this, my lord”, Dean snarled. “You say one more bad word about my mate, and I will call you out here and now, do you understand me? We can go to the back of the club and use pistols, swords, or battle-axes for all I care, but it will be a cold day in Hell before I allow you to slander my mate. Is that understood?”  
   
The earl nodded, clearly terrified. Dean snarled into his face then let go, before backing off and striding from the club.  
   
+~+~+  
   
September 1817  
   
Further tests by Doctor Alton had shown that Castiel was developing an increasing resistance to his heat suppressants, which meant that it was time for some new ones. Unfortunately it was also the doctor’s advice that Castiel should go through two unsuppressed heats before starting the new treatment. It was annoyingly ill-timed, as the first of these had been at the start of August, which meant that the second one was in mid-September. In other words, when Castiel’s fortieth birthday was due to occur.   
   
The August heat had finished on the seventh, which meant, according to Dean’s calculations, that the second heat should start on the eleventh of September. If it did, then Castiel could safely have sex with him seven days after that, which would be the day of his birthday. The eleventh duly came, and Castiel’s heat – did not. The omega had of course retired to his heat room a few days prior, but promised to send news to his mate ‘if there were any developments’.  
   
The only development that day, it turned out, was the uncomfortable one in Dean’s trousers. His sons smirked when they saw him, but knew well enough to say nothing.  
   
Typically, Dean woke the following morning to find a note on his bedside table. Castiel’s heat had broken overnight, which meant he was out of bounds until the nineteenth. Dean – and his family – were in for an uncomfortable week.  
   
It was arranged to celebrate the omega’s birthday one day late, on the nineteenth, and Mrs. Moseley even added ‘+1 day’ to the ’40 years young’ she had iced on the chocolate cake she had made, as well as making a special smaller cake for the eighteenth. Diniel and Ryazan were allowed to take him their presents on that day (not Scaden, of course), which made Dean even more envious. He was in a grumpy mood when he turned in that night.  
   
He woke to a wonderful dream that Castiel was trying to climb all over him, and opened his eyes to find it wasn’t a dream after all.  
   
“Huh?” he said incoherently.  
   
“Doctor Alton left me a testing kit”, his mate explained in between licking his way down the alpha’s chest, “so I could know exactly when my heat finished. It’s done, Dean.”  
   
Where Castiel went next fried Dean’s few remaining brain cells, but he decided that, perhaps, there were some things that were better than dreams, after all.  
   
+~+~+  
   
December 1817  
   
An air of sadness hung over Pemberley, as over much of the country. Castiel sat himself by the fire in the sitting-room and set to unwrapping the parcel that had just arrived for him. Unusually it was from Michael, which was a wonder in itself, even if as usual Dean had had to pay to receive it.  
   
The previous month, the country had rejoiced when Princess Charlotte, daughter and heiress to the detested Prince Regent, had gone into labour, only to lose her child and her life in quick succession. An air of uncertainty hung over everything now, especially as with the mad king’s many sons, not a single one had produced a legitimate son to inherit, and they were all well advanced in years. The future of the monarchy itself, which had emerged strengthened from the war with France only a few years earlier, looked uncertain.  
   
Michael’s parcel turned out to be three books by an authoress called ‘Miss Morris’ who, he said in his accompanying letter, had passed recently. The two recently-published ones were called Northanger Abbey and Persuasion, but Michael drew his brother’s attention to the older book, Pride and Prejudice, published some four years ago. It had drawn little attention at the time, which was a pity as it looked exactly the sort of thing the omega would enjoy reading. He settled down to enjoy it.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Dean stared at him in shock.  
   
“And this is us?” he asked, amazed.  
   
“She has changed the names of the characters and the places”, Castiel told him, “and there are some differences – I was taken in by Wickham, or Woodson as he is here – but yes, this is our story.”  
   
“It is a good thing she has passed”, Dean growled. “I do not want someone putting my inner thoughts out for all the world to see.”  
   
“Actually the book is written from my point of view”, Castiel said. “Though she does handle your proposal at Medlington quite well, even if she makes you seem rather emotionally cold.”  
   
Dean huffed. Castiel wrapped an arm around his alpha.  
   
“I know you are not really”, he said comfortingly, “and so does everyone who knows you. Michael had the book come into the library at Meryton, and he thought I would enjoy it. He has not told anyone else in the family about it.”  
   
The alpha’s eyes widened at the thought of Mrs. Bennet reading such a book. His life would not be worth living!  
   
“Tell me about it”, he urged his mate.  
   
Castiel nestled against him.  
   
“It is a truth universally acknowledged….” he began, “that…..”  
 


	16. Two Winters' Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean celebrates Valentine's Day properly for the first time. The district acquires a new doctor in somewhat irregular circumstances, and two deaths rock the family.

February 1818  
   
It was a cold winter’s day at Pemberley. Dean had just welcomed Ellen and Bobby Singer back from their recent trip to Germany, where they had definitely not been checking up on their daughter’s latest missionary assignment. They had just happened to be in the same town, in the middle of nowhere. Castiel had gone over to see Gabriel, who had slipped and sprained his ankle, and needed company with Sam away in London. “Or to help control his children!” Dean had quietly remarked, knowing full well that, as with his own brood, the dark-haired omega could strike the fear of God into the younger generation when pushed.  
   
“They do things differently over there”, Ellen said, eyeing one of Mrs. Moseley’s cakes appreciatively. “For example, they make really big thing out of Valentine’s Day, unlike us.”  
   
“What is that about?” Dean asked. The day was noticed in England, but he had never taken much interest in it.  
   
His aunt and uncle exchanged incredulous looks.  
   
“You mean to say”, Ellen said slowly, “that come the fourteenth of this month, you and my nephew, the most romantic couple in England, will be doing precisely nothing?”  
   
Dean felt guilty, even though he had no idea what she was talking about.  
   
“It's just another saint's day”, he said, trying not to sound petulant.  
   
“It is a day when you are supposed to show your mate – or prospective mate – just how romantic you are”, Bobby explained. “In Prussia the shops make a big thing of it, and the family we stayed with says it is getting bigger each year. You do something romantic for your love – sweets, a card, flowers – that sort of thing.”  
   
“Cas knows I love him”, Dean said obstinately. “I show him every time we…..”  
   
The couple glared at him.  
   
“Um, hold hands”, Dean finished weakly.   
   
“Good save”, his uncle muttered.  
   
“You should do something”, Ellen said firmly. “I am sure our dear nephew made your last birthday memorable, did he not?”  
   
Dean was sure his blush could be seen all the way to Lambton.  
   
“Terrible weather we’ve been having”, Bobby said blandly. His wife chuckled at the blatant change of subject, but mercifully let it drop.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Castiel was suspicious. That, and his brother was a terrible liar.  
   
Gabriel had asked him to come over to Lynton again, presumably because he was still weak on his legs. Of course Castiel enjoyed visiting his nephews, and he was developing a good relationship with Samandriel in particular, the alpha being quiet and bookish like him, but he had caught his brother looking at the clock on more than one occasion that day. When pressed, he had said he was merely expecting his mate back. Castiel knew him too well not to see through him, but said nothing, and left in time to get back for dinner.  
   
Dean was unusually quiet at dinner that evening, which was unusual. Castiel could not think of anything that could account for his preoccupied state, unless he had had some news from Ellen and Bobby – but then they had called in at Lynton on their way home, so surely they would have told him if it had been anything important?  
   
The omega was still concerned when he went up to bed, Dean having turned in half an hour earlier. He walked into their bedroom – and froze.  
   
The room looked like an essay in pink and white. Two huge bunches of flowers, one either side of the bed, filled the room with a heady scent, rivalled only by the warm chocolaty smell of some delicious-looking cakes that, from the way they were almost melting, were still warm. And lying on the bed was his mate, looking at him anxiously.  
   
“Dean?” Castiel said uncertainly.  
   
“Happy Valentine’s Day, beloved”, Dean said quietly, holding out a hand to his mate, who drifted over and lay down next to him. “I hope this is all right?”  
   
Castiel swallowed.  
   
“Beloved”, he said with a smile, “this is some way beyond all right. I did not know you celebrated this day of all days.”  
   
“I did not appreciate it, until Bobby and Ellen mentioned it earlier”, the alpha admitted. “But now I know, I want to make this day special. To show how much I love and adore you.”  
   
Castiel slid closer to his mate.  
   
“Dean, you show me that every day of our lives together”, he said. “But this – this is something else. I really have to thank you for it.”  
   
“Oh, there’s no need”, Dean said airily.  
   
Then he realized exactly where Castiel was going….  
   
The cakes would have to wait.  
   
+~+~+  
   
May 1818  
   
“We may have a slight problem”, Castiel said casually over breakfast that morning.  
   
Dean was alert at once. His mate's ‘slight problems’ often had a way of ending up major ones if he did not deal with them quickly.  
   
“Doctor Emery”, Castiel said gravely.  
   
“I thought you liked him”, Dean said, surprised. Ever since Doctor Alton had retired (though he had said he would still come out in emergencies, of course), they had been more reliant on the town doctor. This was currently a middle-aged alpha called Frederick Emery, who had taken over from the old doctor four years back. Dean was naturally suspicious of him, being another alpha, but so far the man had proven capable when needed.  
   
“He has been arrested”, Castiel said flatly.  
   
Oh. Perhaps not that capable, after all.  
   
“Why?” Dean asked.  
   
“Apparently he was emerging from a Manchester brothel”, Castiel said. “Drunk. He then urinated against a post, and assaulted the local beadle when he tried to arrest him.”  
   
“Ah”, Dean said. “Jail?”  
   
“Most definitely”, Castiel said. “And he is unlikely to return. Remember that his father only allowed him to practice this far from their home in Liverpool if, and I quote, “’he settled down somewhat’. I do not think that Mr. Emery Senior will quite consider this as ‘settling down’.”  
   
“So the district will need a new doctor”, Dean mused. “That will not be easy. Most doctors are attracted to the towns just now.”  
   
“Perhaps we could ask Doctor Alton if he knows anyone?” Castiel suggested. “I am sure he could find someone suitable.”  
   
+~+~+  
   
June 1818  
   
It was a little over a month later, and Dean was sat in his study with his mate at Pemberley. He was worried enough what with his sister having suffered a recent illness, which Doctor Alton had been kind enough to treat whilst he searched for a new doctor for the area. His proffered candidate now stood in front of Dean and Castiel.  
   
“You are quite young for a doctor”, Castiel said, voicing Dean’s thoughts exactly. “May I ask exactly how old you are, sir?”  
   
The man before them was Peter Wentworth Mallard St. John (Dean had checked), a young alpha who looked barely old enough to have left school, never mind finished his medical training. Dean was edgy enough in the presence of another alpha, although he did appreciate the way that the newcomer surreptitiously moved himself slightly away from Castiel after bowing to him.  
   
“I entered medical college at sixteen”, their visitor said, “and took five years to graduate.”  
   
“Your parents must be proud of you”, Dean observed.  
   
The other alpha’s face remained impassive.  
   
“They were completely against my chosen profession, sir”, he said. “Fortunately, my uncle on my father’s side was a doctor, and he was prepared to finance me through my training.”  
   
Probably to spite his brother, Dean thought wryly.   
   
“Why do you wish to come to Lambton?” he asked. “Country practices are less popular these days.”  
   
“I was raised in a country area”, the doctor explained. “Westmorland, to be exact. I did not like London when I was learning my trade there, and spent as much time away from it as I could. I would much prefer somewhere like here, if you would have me.”  
   
That, Castiel knew, was the rub. Technically Dean had no right to interview a prospective doctor for the town, nor could he stop the man moving here and establishing a practice if he wanted. He could, however, make things very difficult for him if the man rubbed him up the wrong way.  
   
“I think you could do very well here”, Dean said consideringly. “Normally of course you would be required to ‘buy out’ your predecessor, but given his current, ahem, situation, I suspect he will be more than reasonable.”  
   
“Thank you my lord, my laird”, the man said.   
   
+~+~+  
   
January 1819  
   
Castiel sighed as he watched the black carriage roll slowly up the drive, and went to join his mate in meeting the occupant. Dean’s sister was coming home.  
   
Alone.  
   
Anna’s husband, Edward, had gone out on the traditional Boxing Day hunt with the Mid-Staffordshires, and suffered a fall from his horse. It had seemed minor at the time, but it had clearly shaken him in some way, and he had gone downhill rapidly, dying the day after New Year’s Day. After the funeral, Anna had sent Anael to her late husband’s parents for a while whilst she returned to Pemberley.  
   
It was hard to think that Anna Phelps, as she was, was thirty-five years of age, Castiel thought as Dean gently guided her to her room. She still seemed to him the shy young girl who had been terrified at their first meeting that time in Lambton, only slowly blossoming out into the beautiful young woman who had captured a politician’s heart. The omega supposed that God must have his reasons for denying her and her husband happiness, especially over their children, though he could not for the life of him think what those reasons might be.  
   
Dean came down a little time later, looking grave.  
   
“She asked for some tea to be sent to her room”, he said. “Well, I insisted, if truth be told. I wondered – could you take it to her? You and she are so close.”  
   
“Of course”, Castiel said with a smile. “We are family, after all.”  
   
He went down to the kitchen to arrange things.  
   
+~+~+  
   
March 1818  
   
It had been a doleful winter, Castiel thought. It had snowed heavily twice, and the latest fall had just about melted. Dean was sat across from him in his study, pretending to write, whilst Castiel pretended rather better not to see the tears falling onto the paper.  
   
There was a knock at the door. Dean wiped his face whilst Castiel went across to open it. It was Doctor St. John. One look was enough.  
   
“I am sorry”, the young man said, sounding almost bitter. “I do not think she wished to go on after her husband’s death.”  
   
“Poor Anael”, Castiel said thoughtfully. The teenage girl had moved to Pemberley to be with her mother during her last few days. “It must be dreadful for her.”  
   
“She will stay here, and we will raise her as one of our own”, Dean said firmly. “I have spoken to Edward’s father, and with his wife in a poor condition, he agreed that that would be for the best. We shall treat her as if she were our own blood.”  
   
“She is”, Castiel said. “Your sister would be so proud of you, Dean. Shall I speak to Anael, or would you like me to send her here?”  
   
“Bring her here”, Dean said grimly, “and our sons too. We are a family, and we shall get through this together.”


	17. Love Is All Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean plants a memorial tree for his late sister. Scaden's first romance ends in disaster, and Castiel realizes why he and Dean have been receiving less invites as of late.

April 1819  
   
Castiel had expected his mate to raise a protest when Anna’s solicitor told him that she had requested to be buried next to her husband in the little church near their home. To his surprise, Dean accepted it, but the omega noticed how downcast he was. He thought about it for some time before he had an idea.  
   
“We should do something”, Castiel said suddenly.  
   
They were sat together in Dean’s study. The snow had melted and not returned, but it was still bitterly cold outside. His mate turned and looked at him.  
   
“About what?” he asked, puzzled.  
   
“Anna”, Castiel said. “We should have a reminder of her here.”  
   
Dean looked uneasy at the idea.  
   
“Not a plaque or a stone”, he said firmly. “I hate anything like that.”  
   
“She was life itself, and should be remembered as such”, Castiel said gently. “What about a tree, or something? We could plant it in the Flag Garden.”  
   
Dean thought about the idea, and found he quite liked it. The garden, centred around an arbour, was round the back of Pemberley, and whilst it had a view of the flag-pole, it was so-called because if any member of the family wanted some time alone, they could go there and leave a red flag on the sole path leading into it, knowing they would not be disturbed. Anna had spent much time there, even in the cold days after he final return to Pemberley.  
   
“We should ask Anael what she thinks of the idea”, Castiel advised. “It is for her mother, after all.”  
   
“She said the other day that she wishes to be called Anna now”, Dean said sadly.   
   
“Another living memory”, Castiel said with a small smile. “Our ultimate way of honouring her.”  
   
“We shall speak to her after dinner”, Dean said firmly.  
   
+~+~+  
   
In the end they chose a cherry-tree, which young Anna said her mother had always liked at her house. They had to wait a few weeks to plant it as there were heavy frosts through the rest of the month, but finally it was in, and Dean could go and sit there and remember his sister in happier times.  
   
+~+~+  
   
April 1819  
   
Castiel had been secretly hoping for something to drag Dean out of his misery, or at least distract him a little. He really should have remembered that saw about being careful as to exactly what you wish for.  
   
The first sign of trouble came when Scaden did not come down to dinner. Now that Castiel came to think about it, he had been in an odd mood ever since his seventeenth birthday a few weeks back, although all the turbulence surrounding Anna’s death had meant he had paid little attention. But when his son sent down that he was too unwell to eat dinner, the omega smelt a rat.   
   
He waited until Dean had left on estate business before cornering his younger sons in the lounge.   
   
“What is wrong with Scay?” he demanded.  
   
They exchanged guilty glances. Castiel sat and stared at them both; he had found that that was a sure way of making one or other of them crack. This time, it was Ryazan who broke.   
   
“Scay’s been seeing someone”, he blurted out, earning himself a punch from his omega brother. He glared at Diniel.  
   
“Boys!” Castiel snapped, bringing them both to immediate attention. “Am I to take it that this ‘someone’ is ‘someone’ either your father or I would not approve of?”  
   
Another exchange of guilty looks. Diniel sighed.  
   
“Aaron Bass, from the village”, he said. “The blacksmith’s son.”  
   
Castiel’s eyes widened. Suddenly he could fully understand exactly why his sons had been so reluctant to talk about this.  
   
“And Scay’s sudden illness is an indication that this relationship is not working out?” he asked gently.  
   
“Mr. Bass said he is moving to Derby to work in a factory there”, Ryazan said. “Since Mrs. Bass died, there is nothing to keep him here. Aaron will have to go with him, because Joe, their apprentice who will take over the smithy, does not like him.”  
   
Castiel nodded.  
   
“Does Mr. Bass know of his son’s relationship?” he asked.  
   
The horrified looks on his sons’ faces answered that one without words. He sighed unhappily. As if life had not dealt them enough blows lately.  
   
“You cannot tell Father!” Diniel said urgently. “He would hit the roof!”  
   
“I am not aware there is anything to tell your father about”, Castiel said carefully. “The relationship, such as it was, seems to be over, or at least coming to an end. I will speak to Scay, but I think it is best of we do not mention this beyond this room.”  
   
His sons both looked intensely relieved.  
   
+~+~+  
   
Castiel sat on his eldest son’s bed. At seventeen, Scaden Winchester was already taller than both his papa and his father, although he had the seemingly standard spindliness of the average teenager. He had several days’ growth of beard on his chin, and he looked generally unkempt. The omega sighed.  
   
“You are going to have to make an effort, Scay”, he urged. “I know it is hard, but….”  
   
“You have Father!” Scaden burst out. “It is so easy for you, papa. It hurts!”  
   
“Love often does”, Castiel said gently. “And your father and I did not have it easy, either. I rejected him quite brutally the first time he proposed.”  
   
His eldest son looked at him in shock.  
   
“You did what?” he demanded.  
   
Castiel chuckled.  
   
“I had just found out that he had done something rather bad”, he said, “and I hated him for that. His proposal came out of the blue, and I – well, I believe the current vernacular is that I told him where to shove it!”  
   
Scaden stared at his papa in shock.  
   
“But you are so happy together!” he insisted. “How?”  
   
“I came to realize that I had been a little prejudiced in my opinions”, Castiel admitted with a smile. “And your father – being so flatly rejected when he had been sure of acceptance caused him to take a long hard look at himself. When we next met, he tried to woo me properly.”  
   
His eldest son pulled a face.  
   
“Woo?” he said, running his tongue round his mouth as if to rid himself of the taste of the word. “Ugh!”  
   
“”Oh, your father can definitely woo!” Castiel smiled. “In fact there are times when we….”  
   
He stopped, laughing as his son buried his face in a pillow to block out his words. Eventually Scaden dropped the pillow and stared hopefully at him.  
   
“He’s an alpha”, he said mournfully. “Papa, I fell in love with someone who could never secure the future of the estate with me. You know how Father would react.”  
   
“And like you, I would probably best appreciate viewing it from the next continent”, Castiel said wryly. “You have never felt that attraction to girls or omegas?”  
   
Scaden shook his blond head.  
   
“I’m in trouble”, he said flatly.   
   
“Quite probably”, Castiel admitted. “But we do have two other sons, in case you didn’t notice?”  
   
His son scowled at him. Castiel laughed.  
   
“Cheer up”, he urged. “And have a shave. The longer you keep up here like this, the more likely your father is to start asking questions. Let us delay that storm for as long as possible, eh?  
   
“Let’s!” Scaden agreed heartily.  
   
+~+~+  
   
May 1819  
   
Dean knew something was wrong even before his cousin sat down heavily by the fireplace. Adam looked terrible.  
   
“Flick is pregnant”, he said flatly.  
   
Dean looked at him uncertainly.  
   
“When is it due?” he asked.  
   
“November”, the other alpha said heavily.  
   
Ah. Adam had only gotten back from a six-month posting with his regiment the month before. Barring another immaculate conception, that could only mean one thing.  
   
“Have you challenged her about it?” he asked.  
   
“She lied to me”, he said sadly. “Her doctor told me it was due in January, which would have been fine – except that when I went to his surgery to ask him something, I found the report he had written on her. The original date had been crossed out and changed to two months later.”  
   
“Did you say anything?” Dean asked.  
   
“I could not”, the major admitted. “Not without hitting the man. Cousin, what am I to do?”  
   
“Nothing”. Dean said.  
   
Adam looked at him in surprise.  
   
“Nothing?” he echoed.  
   
“You shall do nothing”, Dean clarified. “I, on the other hand, shall write to my friend Victor and get him to gather evidence against your wife, and to find out who the father is. Getting a divorce would not be a problem, but we must make sure she does not try to blacken your good name in the process.”  
   
“Bill will be livid”, Adam said glumly. “He never liked her. I can almost hear the ‘I told you so’ from here!”  
   
“Let us cross that bridge when we come to it”, Dean said firmly. “First things first. She does not suspect?”  
   
“No”, his cousin said.  
   
“Then let us set about showing the world exactly what she is.”  
   
+~+~+  
   
July 1819  
   
Castiel looked through the report and grimaced.  
   
“Four different men”, he said distastefully. “The woman has no shame!”  
   
“She has no husband for now”, Dean said. “Adam showed her the findings, and offered to give her a divorce if she went quietly, otherwise he would expose the whole thing to the papers. This way, she can go to one of them – we are not even sure which one is the father of the bastard – and try to get him to marry her.”  
   
“Provided it is one of the two unmarried ones”, Castiel said, frowning. “This girl is a disaster! Poor old Adam!”  
   
“Old indeed”, Dean chuckled. “Fast approaching forty, and no sign of any legitimate heir to the Standford estate. His brother will indeed be cross.”  
   
“At least the monarchy is secure”, Castiel observed. “I see the new princess was christened the other week. Alexandrina Victoria.”  
   
“I am surprised that the Duke of Kent had it in him”, Dean said.  
   
“I rather think it was the duchess who had it in her”, Castiel said sharply.   
   
Dean eyed him coolly, until he realized that his mate was looking pointedly at the door. He gulped……  
   
+~+~+  
   
August 1819  
   
“Poor Uncle Rufus”, Castiel said sadly. “It really has been a terrible month.”  
   
Dean nodded. The burgeoning reformist movement, of which he and Castiel were a small part, had increasingly got under the government’s skin, culminating in disaster in nearby Manchester a few days back. An assembly at St. Peter’s Field in the city had gone ahead despite a ban, and incredibly the government had ordered the militia to fire on the people. At least ten, possibly more, had been killed in the ensuing panic, which the press was already dubbing ‘Peterloo’. Rufus Turner had been one of the men booked to speak at the march, but the shock of what had happened had proved too much for his already failing health, and he had died the following day.   
   
“This is disgusting!” Dean said angrily. “I do not care what people say; I am going to make sure everyone knows just how angry some of us who are meant to be the leaders of this country really are.”  
   
Castiel looked at him curiously.  
   
“What do you mean, ‘what people say’?” he asked.  
   
Dean blushed. Damnation! He had never told his mate about the opposition of some local lords to his actions.  
   
“Dean!” Castiel said warningly. “What are people saying?”  
   
“Idiots like Adam’s brother have tried to get me to make you back off”, Dean said scornfully. “As if I would listen to them over you!”  
   
The omega looked at him shrewdly.  
   
“That is why there have been fewer invitations to balls of late, isn’t it?” he asked.  
   
“I do not care for such things anyway”, Dean said hotly. “If it is a choice between bad music, worst food and terrible dancers, or an evening at home with my beautiful mate, I do not think I will need to take long in making my choice!”  
   
“You first met me at a dance, remember?” Castiel reminded him with a smile. “Amidst all the ‘country riff-raff’, an omega who was by no means handsome enough to tempt you!”  
   
Dean cringed.  
   
“But you more than made up for it later”, Castiel said with a smile.   
   
The alpha relaxed.  
   
“Although”, his mate went on thoughtfully, “perhaps you could make up for it just a little bit more?”  
   
Dean’s eyes widened. Hell, yes!


End file.
